Twisted Sun
by lightinside
Summary: Ten years after the death of her mother, Birdie Chapman returns to Bon Temps after her life once again was turned upside down. But vampires have come out of the coffin. Monsters rule the dark. Her hometown changed forever, she thought that discovering herself again would be impossible. She never expected fate to find her.
1. intro

**x twisted sun x**

**_"fate loves the fearless"_**

_\- James Russell Lowell_


	2. 01 The Sun

**_Hi everyone!_**

**_This story is exactly what you think it might be. An ode to Eric Northman. I am sorry, but I can't get over him so I had to write about him. And buy all of the books Charlaine Harris wrote him into. This is a sort of AU, as I do pick and choose what happens from the show and I have added a few things of my own. It does not directly follow either the show or the books. I rated this T, but there is a lot of language along with certain themes that might make some people uncomfortable. I just wanted to warn you before you get too far into the story, and will continue to post warnings at the beginning of sensitive chapters. Otherwise, please try to enjoy this crap first chapter as an interlude to the ACTUAL good stuff. _**

**_Hang in there._**

**_(Also, those of you who have been readers of mine before know that I love to make playlists. This is no different! All of the chapter names are song titles. I'll be posting the songs one at a time on Spotify, so there will be a link up soon. This chapter title comes from "The Sun" by The Naked and Famous)._**

**_\- lightinside_**

* * *

**01\. | The Sun**

"I didn't sign up for this shit." Lafayette Reynolds said, a little too loudly, as he dropped a moving box on a dusty living room floor. "When you said, 'come over' little woman, I thought you was inviting me for a cocktail."

Birdie laughed. "I'm sorry to have mislead you. A cocktail is coming up soon, if we can find my dishes." She promised. "Did Sam not tell you it was moving day?"

Lafayette shot the man in question a hideous glare. Sam Merlotte, as good-natured as ever, only shrugged and kept hauling boxes in from the truck outside. Birdie wanted to kiss him. In a platonic sort of way. She'd known Sam since high school, the same as the rest of her friends. He'd always been kind and patient – considerate. And he'd tricked Lafayette into helping her move in to her childhood home. The man was absolutely a god-send.

When Lafayette didn't move from his previous haul, Sam sighed. "Sorry." He said finally. That got Lafayette moving.

"You better believe you will be." He grumbled, pointing a manicured finger at the truck outside the front door. "You payin' for my next massage, Sam Merlotte."

Birdie sighed and shook her head. She checked her watch for the time: 4:15 p.m. in the blazing Louisiana afternoon. Sookie and Tara should have been arriving soon. They would want cocktails too, eventually. They would all need it, if they made it through the rest of the day. Every single item she owned was in that moving truck. Ten years' worth of memories and investments, and a very old sofa that she couldn't bring herself to get rid of.

She pretended not to hear Lafayette complaining as he helped Sam bring the thing in. It was falling apart and smelled slightly like old takeout, but it had been a fixture in her apartment since college. Birdie wasn't ashamed of it, but she knew it would have to be reupholstered very soon. This was a house – a far cry from a college apartment.

It was her house. Her mother wouldn't want some dinky sofa sitting in their old living room. She knew exactly what her mother would want. And what she would think of so-called 'modern' Bon Temps. Birdie sighed and started opening boxes, digging through for glasses and dishes. She went about her business as more boxes came in and Lafayette's swearing increased in frequency and volume as her two friends started hauling in the rest of the furniture. Birdie whistled to herself, making it a point to ignore the halfhearted dirty looks they shot her way each time they passed the kitchen with another nightstand or bookcase. By the time they started piggybacking a mattress up the stairs, even Sam was about to call it quits. Lafayette stormed into the kitchen, demanding water, and Sam sat down in the floor.

It wasn't long before he was totally horizontal and unresponsive.

Birdie raised an eyebrow at him, worried. "Are you alright? Do you need water? Tea? Electric shock?"

Sam raised an arm and shook his head. "Nah. I'm just getting a little old, I think."

Birdie snorted as Lafayette poured himself more water and gulped it down. "If you're old, what does that say about the rest of us?" Her friend attempted a laugh, but it rang true with exhaustion. Birdie realized she couldn't send them home like this. "If the girls ever get here, y'all just stay. They said they would bring groceries. There'll be food, if I can get the stove to work."

Sam raised his head. "Do you need me to look at it?"

"No!" Birdie said, answering a little too quickly. "You stay there. I can fix a stove."

Lafayette snorted. "Oh, honey."

"I can." She insisted, shooting him a dirty look. "How hard can it be, really?"

"Right." Sam and Lafayette chorused, rolling their eyes.

Birdie frowned. "Hush up." She said. "Just because I'm usually hopeless with these kinds of things, that doesn't mean I can't work a little magic."

"Baby girl, your bloodline don't have a drop of the stuff." Lafayette said. "You might as well sit your little self down with me and a mojito while the man of the house takes a peek."

Sam groaned. "I hope you don't mean me."

Lafayette blinked. "Do you know who I am? Do you think I mean _me_?"

"Stop your screechin'." Sam sighed. "I'm getting up."

"Stay where you are." Birdie ordered, pointing a glass jug at him as she drew it out from one of the boxes. "Breathe for a few minutes. We can all have a drink. And then make Jason take a look at the stove."

"Jason Stackhouse can't fix anything. Not even a decent game of poker." Sam retorted. "You'll be ordering takeout every night."

Birdie said nothing but couldn't stand the thought of eating burgers every single evening though Sam did run a fabulous establishment. With the burgers came the drunken or otherwise slovenly southern men that haunted the bar all day. She couldn't stand their attention. She'd forgotten that it would be one of the cons of coming back – of coming home. Birdie wondered if it was still the same as before, or if male harassment of female patrons had grown worse since vampires came out of the coffin. There were rings of drug dealers lurking in these parts of Louisiana. And now, in addition to powder, they had V. Birdie suppressed a shudder. Maybe this had been a mistake.

The weather had certainly been more agreeable up north.

"Earth to little bird." Lafayette waved a hand in front of her face, causing Birdie to start and nearly drop one of the glasses she held in her hand. "You thinkin' that hard, you'll hurt your brain."

"Missing the cold." Birdie plastered a smile on her face. "Here." She handed her friend a glass and gestured to the kitchen. "I assume you remember your way around."

"Yes ma'am, I do." He said with a cheeky grin and disappeared with a swish of his hips around the corner.

Birdie laughed softly to herself, chewing on her lower lip. It wasn't just the V that had her worried. Not the vampires. It was Bon Temps – it was the house. Sookie knew why she'd come home. Why there wasn't a ring on her finger anymore. None of the guys knew anything, and she wanted it that way. Lafayette had the biggest mouth in the entire parish. But Sookie was different – she kept to herself even though it didn't keep people from wondering about her. Through this practice, she'd developed an impressive instinct for discretion. And all Birdie wanted was to sit down with her friend and talk about the man she knew wasn't good for her, but that she missed terribly. As it was with everything that ended unexpectedly even if it had run its course.

She'd run straight home though there was no one there to comfort her. Birdie was thankful Sam and Lafayette had arrived with her. Facing her childhood home turned mausoleum would have been far too much to handle alone.

"You know somethin'?" Sam asked, startling her from her reverie. "You could come work for me, Bird. If you wanted."

"I appreciate the offer, Sam, but if one more dirty old man tried to grab me, I'm afraid that I would be going to prison." She said, grimacing. "I did the waitressing gig once. I don't know if I could stomach it again."

"Well, how about helping Tara behind the bar?" He brushed shaggy peppered hair from his eyes, still lounging in the floor. "Pay is good. Tips are better because of the tax."

"I'll think about it. Hoyt's mama put in the word at the salon for me. You know that _no one_ says no to Hoyt's mama."

Sam laughed. Birdie couldn't help but laugh with him. Sam had the kind of laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. The kind that made him look the way that Birdie remembered him as a child. Before her parents had died. She shook the thought away and forced herself to keep unpacking and turn away before Sam could see her smile fade and ask what was wrong. "You better believe I know it. Hoyt's mama is a mean old woman. Mean as a snake."

"With the power of old Bon Temps society behind her." Birdie reminded him. "If I can squeeze out of the salon job without riling her temper, my time is yours Sam Merlotte."

"Sounds like a deal, Bird." Sam said, grinning.

"What's a deal?" Lafayette asked, popping around the corner. "Why y'all having conversations I can't hear?"

Birdie scoffed. "Oh, go on." She said. "If you must know, I'm thinking about working for Sam again."

"Oooh, girl! This tired old town better look out. " Lafayette winked at Birdie from the doorway.

"Hush your mouth." She said, rolling her eyes. "Not waitressing. And while I'm thinking about it, please don't make me wear that ridiculous uniform. That's my condition."

For a moment, Sam looked almost ill with hope. His voice was edged with desperation as he spoke. "Deal."

"Then I'll risk the wrath of Mrs. Fortenberry for you. You've got yourself an employee." Birdie promised.

Sam crowed, jumping up from the floor with renewed vigor. Birdie kept a smile on her face, though she did dread having to face Mrs. Fortenberry. But nights at Merlotte's would be better than spending her days around cackling old hens at the salon. Lafayette seemed pleased enough but would never stoop so low as to go around whooping and hollering the way Sam still was.

"Where the hell are them girls?" Lafayette grumbled. "They's supposed to be supplying the drinks. Typical of 'em to be late. Especially now that there's somethin' to celebrate."

Birdie checked her wristwatch. "They'll be here. Just give them some time. If you're worried, I'd call Tara." She shook her head. "Lord knows that Sookie never answers her phone."

While Lafayette excused himself to the porch to take Birdie's advice to call his cousin, Sam sneaked into the kitchen to check out the stove. Birdie pretended not to see and took advantage of the quiet time to check her own phone. As she lazed about for the first time all afternoon, she heard a car coming down the long gravel drive to the house.

"It's Jason." Lafayette called from the porch. "Ain't no sign of that sister of his."

Sam poked his head out from the kitchen. "This'll take a while. Might ought to go outside and talk to Jason, see where Sookie might be."

"You got it, boss." Birdie said, smiling. Sam grinned as she disappeared from the living room and took up her post on the porch. The sun was going down now. Birdie would have been lying if she said she wasn't getting worried about Sookie. Jason's truck was flying down the drive, kicking up dust as it went, like he was in a hurry. He'd barely bothered to put the thing in park before he was stumbling out of it, breathless.

"Hi, Bird. Let's go, Bird, like now, Bird." He gasped, leaning against the door. Lafayette and Birdie both stood, gaping at him.

"Uh… hi, Jason." Birdie said slowly. "Where are we meant to be going?"

"Something came up and Sookie's probably got herself in trouble again. Her boyfriend, you know. Bill? His vampire spawn or whatever, _progeny_, took off somewhere and Sookie went to find her. I think she's at some vampire bar in Shreveport."

There were so many things in that sentence that Birdie just couldn't process, but there was one thing that stuck.

"Vampire bar?" Birdie asked.

"No. Uh-uh." Lafayette took the phone from his ear, wagging a finger at Jason. "She just got home. You don't need to be takin' her to that place."

Birdie's curiosity was raging now. "I can go." She said before she could think too much. "It's getting late, anyway. Someone should go get her."

"Jason can." Lafayette said firmly. "You don't want to go there."

"Is Tara with her?"

He sighed and shook his head. "No. She's workin'. Didn't bother to tell me earlier."

"Okay, so we'll go find Sookie and bring her back and we'll all have dinner after." Birdie was already moving toward Jason's truck. A vampire bar. Things really had changed around here. She tried not to look too eager as she climbed into the passenger side and leaned her head out of the window. "I promise, it won't take long."

"You keep your wits about you, hear?"

Jason hopped back into the truck and threw it into drive. The house was out of sight in under a minute. Birdie relished the way the wind whipped her hair around her face, closing her eyes against the light of the setting sun.

"A vampire bar." She murmured to herself, stuck on the idea of it, and then she turned to Jason. "What's this place called, anyway?"

Jason grimaced. "Fangtasia."


	3. 02 No One's Here To Sleep

_**Hi everyone! **_

_**I can't promise a set posting schedule, as finals are approaching. So, for this week, I'm doubling up. This chapter title is taken from "No One's Here to Sleep" by Naughty Boy and Bastille. Thank you for suffering through the first chapter, I really appreciate it. I hope to hear from some of you in the reviews after this chapter! **_

_**Let me know what you think, what you might like to see in the future, etc. Have a great week! **_

_**\- lightinside**_

* * *

**02\. ****| No One's Here to Sleep **

Fangtasia was a flashing, pulsing, omnipresent force that caused Birdie's mouth to go dry the moment she laid eyes on it. It was nothing like she'd imagined. Even from where they sat at the curb, engine running, Birdie could feel the bass from the nightclub in her throat like a living thing. Reaching, whispering, inviting her inside with an inexplicable allure that she had to remind herself to fight against. Birdie thought this curious, especially considering that it didn't very much look like the kind of place where kismet occurred. She looked on nervously, taking in every minute detail while she waited for Jason Stackhouse to gather the courage to leave the car. Every kind of person that Birdie had been warned away from as a child lurked near the doorway; smoking a cigarette, tangled within the limbs and tongues and teeth of other vampire enthusiasts. And the seasoned ones, the brazen, well they walked right through the front door.

A small, cowardly part of her wanted to beg Jason to stay in the car with her. She shoved the thought away, knowing that Sookie needed them. She looked at her friend's brother, forcing the fear from her eyes and saw that Jason was doing the same.

"Did Bill tell you what happened?"

"Didn't get that far." Jason murmured, his voice clipped.

Birdie nodded to herself and looked back out the window. "Are you going in?"

"Gotta go get my sister, don't I?" Jason's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, turning the skin white as it strained over bone. There was a long, depthless silence. Birdie didn't dare fill it. "You came back at the worst time. You should have stayed up North. This is what it's like here now. It's not…"

"It's my home." Birdie replied gently. "I would have come back no matter what."

It sounded genuine, but Birdie wondered if she wasn't lying. Even if only a little.

Jason said nothing, but the look on his face was clear enough. _See if you say that when you go inside._ He cut the ignition and opened his door. Before she could think too much, Birdie opened her door and stepped out onto the pavement. It was balmy, almost too humid to be comfortably warm. The absence of air conditioning was noticeable almost immediately. Sweat already pooled at the base of her neck. She wiped at it absently before forcing herself to swallow despite her dry mouth and follow Jason through the parking lot.

Catcalls rang out and Birdie shrank back from the unwanted attention even as Jason swore at the swaggering drunks who had abandoned all manners under the influence. It wasn't unusual. But that didn't mean Birdie liked it – or got used to it.

She lunged forward to cover the distance that Jason had put between them with long strides and grabbed his elbow as they continued to navigate through the uninhibited and inebriated bodies that stood between them and the front door. Jason, mouth pressed into a grim line, pulled her arm through his and put a hand over hers. A protection and a kindness. She squeezed his hand tightly as they stepped under the red awning that seemed to flutter and drip like blood.

_Theatrical_, Birdie thought amusedly. And then took in the bouncer guarding the entrance. Any scrap of bravado she felt vanished without a trace. He was taller than he looked from a distance. And while he wasn't large, he was lean and packed with muscle. Tattoos swirled around his wrists, climbed his arms, and peeked out at the top of his shirt. There, they continued up to his cheeks, tendrils reaching just for his bottom eyelid. The black of the ink twisted the color of his eyes, gifting them a rather sinister nature that Birdie decided she didn't much care for.

Birdie hoped she was imagining the way that the tattoo seemed to sway against his skin.

"Here to see Eric." Jason kept his voice low, but Birdie knew that they were already drawing attention. The bouncer looked them up and down, lips curling wickedly as he noticed Birdie cowering against Jason's elbow. Jason stiffened, but stayed silent. With a flash of fangs, the bouncer inclined his head and allowed them to pass.

Birdie didn't dare look up as Jason swept her inside and into the throng of bodies littering the dance floor. She scarcely breathed until they made it to the bar – the first moment she dared even considering releasing her grip on Jason's arm.

"I'm going to find Sookie. Stay here, don't move until I come back."

"I wasn't planning on it." She said, but he was already gone. The music was unbearably loud now, reverberating in her ribs and stomach. It was inside her, a part of her, whereas it had only whispered to her in the parking lot. It invasive and inviting and inescapable. Birdie took a deep breath, ignoring the way her lungs seemed to quiver as she flagged down the barmaid.

"AB." She guessed, giving Birdie a once over from under her lashes.

"No blood. Whiskey." Birdie sighed. "A _lot_ of whiskey."

"Human, huh?" The barmaid laughed. "Will do, honey." She cleaned a glass thoughtfully for a moment before setting it down and leaning over, blonde hair brushing the bar, as if she were about to force Birdie to conspire with her. "Stop slouching. Act like you belong. You look like a scared little snack. And someone might be tempted to eat you right up."

Birdie sat up straight immediately and relaxed her arms on the counter. Only her eyes gave her away. "Do I really?"

The woman hummed and leaned away. She poured Birdie's whiskey and then resumed cleaning the previous glass lazily, as if there were a million other places she would rather have been. Birdie wanted to tell her that she felt the same way. Instead, she grabbed at the whiskey – her lifeline in uncharted territory. "That's better. First time here?"

Birdie nodded. "I haven't even been home since all this." She downed her drink and let out a low whistle. "Since vampires came out of the coffin. It's a little more… _subdued_ up north."

"Best thing to do is embrace it. You seem like you've got your wits about you. You've got to hold your ground, girl. Even if you aren't in your element. Weakness don't have a place here anymore. A word to the wise, if you get my drift."

Birdie laughed. "Got it." She pointed to the empty glass. "That helped."

The barmaid smirked and filled her glass again. "Slow this time. You'll have an excuse to loiter up here."

Birdie took her advice and sipped this time, taking the opportunity to look out around the nightclub. She supposed that's what it was. But she'd never been to a nightclub that looked quite like this one. Dancers surrounded her on raised platforms that held them above the crowd but never seemed to make them separate from it. The platforms made them the centerpiece of the swaying, frenetic madness that held Birdie's rapt attention. If anyone took the time to have a drink, their replacement was on the floor in seconds. It was consistent, wild, and alive.

In the midst of chaos, at the back of the room, rose a larger platform than the rest. In the middle sat a large chair – a throne, Birdie realized. She tried not to look too surprised, lest someone see. Instead, she took another steadying sip of her whiskey. Slow, but not forced. Birdie copied the lazy movements of the barmaid, remembering to sit up confidently while oozing boredom.

_Sit pretty, look uninterested. _

_Unavailable. _

Birdie refused to check her watch. She would _not _seem desperate to leave, nor reluctant to stay. Jason would come back, he wouldn't forget her. And she had to be sure not to be even remotely buzzed when he returned. It would be best to be alert when making her way back out to the car, given the nature of the people lurking outside. She sipped even slower. She wouldn't ask for another drink. Not in this place. Not with so many eyes watching, so many men waiting out that door.

"If you're plannin' on stayin' up here, least you could do is tell me your name little Miss. Whiskey." The barmaid said finally, smirking at Birdie. "I don't do well trying to be quiet. Chit chat is half my job."

"Birdie." She answered softly. And then cleared her throat. "I don't do well making conversation."

"Penny." The woman answered her. "And that's a damn shame."

"Thanks for the drink, Penny." Birdie said, smiling.

Penny smiled back for a moment and then froze. Eyebrows raised, she turned around and busied herself behind the bar. "You got a tab, Birdie?"

"No." She answered, pushing her glass away. "Why?"

"You're about to."

Birdie had experienced quite a lot in life, but never anything like this. She had been sixteen when her mother died. Her father had never been in the picture – Birdie had never even learned his name. She'd ended up living with Sookie and her grandmother, and Jason until her aunt had straightened things out enough to sweep her away to Portland just before her eighteenth birthday. It rained there, poured until Birdie was sure that the floodgates of heaven themselves had been opened and everything would be swept away. It was green, but somehow it was different from the green of Louisiana.

There had always been something calling her back to Bon Temps. Something buried inside her heart that had been left behind with her mother, with Sookie, with the green of home – it was singing now. Her skin hummed, suddenly electric and not with the beat of the music. Her stomach twisted, and the plummeted straight to her toes as Birdie turned toward the previously abandoned throne at the apex of the dance floor.

He was striking, Birdie could see that much even at a distance. Blonde hair shimmered in the fluorescent, pulsing light of the club like corn silk in summer sun. His skin, so white it was nearly luminescent in the dark, marked him as something otherworldly. And his eyes… Birdie's heart leapt as, with a whisper from a blonde she hadn't noticed before, they lifted to look straight into hers.

Blue. Electric.

Birdie couldn't remember if she was breathing.

_Jason_, she tried to remind herself. _Sookie_. But there was a distance now between what was important and the eyes that still studied her from across the room. Birdie took a shallow breath, heard only by Penny over the music. The barmaid stole a glance at her out of the corner of her eye, smirking.

"Careful." She murmured.

The stranger blinked lazily, but the intensity in his eyes never wavered. Birdie couldn't interpret his attention, nor put a name to any emotion that passed over his face. Whatever appeared was gone within a microsecond. He sat down on the throne and leaned his chin against two slender, white fingers. Still, he observed. Quiet, calculating, _curious. _

Birdie's skin was on fire. She was sure of it.

"Drink?" Penny asked, voice still barely above a murmur.

"Mmm." Birdie managed and turned back to the bar. But the spell was far from broken. "Hit me." She motioned to her empty glass, the one she swore wouldn't be filled again. Birdie pushed the thought away and let her hair down around her face where it hung like a thick black curtain against the burning gaze of what would seem to be her fate personified.

"Who is that man?" Birdie asked quietly, scarcely daring to move her lips. She sipped the renewed glass of whiskey gratefully no sooner than Penny placed it in front of her.

"The owner." Penny replied. "Eric Northman."

"Why is he staring?"

Penny never dared a glance toward her boss to confirm Birdie's assertion. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned her back to Birdie, as if she were keeping busy. "It seems that he likes what he sees, little Miss. Whiskey." There was a smile in her voice. "If I were you, I'd look out. That one will break your heart."

Birdie knew she was right. Eric Northman reeked of trouble. It wasn't just the way he looked, it was the way he studied her as if he could see right down to the marrow of her bones. But if that were the case, Birdie knew he would have looked away by now. She dared a glance up from her drink and met his eyes with her own – green warring with blue as Birdie stood her ground. Emboldened by whiskey, she peered right into his soul.

There was the emotion. Birdie saw a flash of it in that ocean of blue – surprise. He blinked and for the first time, somehow, it was Birdie that gained an edge. Eric looked away, leaning to whisper something to the corseted blonde that had called his attention to her in the first place.

And then he lifted his hand to her, as if to entreat her to join him.

Birdie looked away.

Penny seemed worried, if she hadn't been before. Her eyes were filled with a plea, aimed at Birdie. But Birdie pretended not to see. "He's summoning you."

"No one summons me." Birdie muttered. She turned back to face the vampire with renewed courage. With a tip of her head and a lift of her glass, Birdie acknowledged his offer and declined it. Around the time Eric Northman lifted his own glass, dark with blood, a wicked grin playing on his lips, a hand closed around Birdie's elbow.

Heart in her throat, Birdie turned to find Sookie there. "_No_." She said, pointing a reprimanding finger straight at him. And then she turned to Birdie. "Hi, Bird." She said, smiling. "Thanks for coming."

Birdie swallowed and forced a smile on her face. "Where did your idiot brother wander off to?"

"Bathroom. He sent me out here to get you, told me where he left you." Sookie cast a dark look over Birdie's shoulder. It wasn't hard to guess who it was aimed at. "I can see you drew some attention."

"Not intentionally." Birdie yanked her elbow back, suddenly resentful of Sookie's guiding hand. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Looking for Jessica." Sookie answered. "Did Bill not tell you?" She started steering Birdie for the door. Birdie didn't dare glance back over her shoulder.

"He only talked to Jason." She sighed. "Your brother heard 'Fangtasia' and loaded me up in the car to come find you."

Sookie rolled her eyes. "Of course, he did."

Around the time Jason made his way over to them, Sookie was working her way into a temper. It wasn't hard, given Jason's nature to jump to conclusions. It had always been a source of contention for them, even as children. Birdie didn't think too much of it herself, but Sookie viewed it as an attempt by Jason to stick his nose in the middle of her business. And even if Bill had called, Sookie argued, that didn't mean Jason had to race all the way to Fangtasia to rescue her.

"You think I was going to leave you here with Northman?" Jason snorted as he led the way back to the car. "Sook, you're out of your mind. And Jess is probably just in a state about being told what to do, that's why she isn't returning his calls. And I don't blame her – I would lose my fuckin' mind if I couldn't see my family. Seeing as how all I've got left is you, anyway."

"Maybe." Sookie murmured. "Bill was worried, he's checking Hoyt's now. I thought I would help and head out here to check."

Jason scowled. "Right."

Birdie cleared her throat. "I love y'all, you know I do. But if you could save all the fightin' for later, I would really appreciate it. It's an awfully small space and I don't think I could make it home on foot."

Sookie grimaced in apology and rotated in her seat as Jason locked his jaw and put the car in gear. "Sorry."

"Honestly, I'd be a little hot under the collar too if you took off all the way out to Shreveport without a word in the middle of the night." Birdie said, glancing at Jason.

He nodded stoutly. "Thank you. That's all I'm sayin'."

Sookie seemed as though she wanted to defend herself, to argue her point, but stayed quiet. "Sorry, Jason." She said finally. "Bill shouldn't have worried you like that."

"I would have gone with you, you know." He said as he turned to head back toward town. "That's all."

"Yeah." Sookie murmured. "I know. Thanks."

Birdie surveyed the scene at the front of the car. Having decided that Jason and Sookie weren't going to kill each other, she leaned back and watched the mossy Louisiana trees speed by her window.

_Blue eyes_.

Birdie's cheeks flamed, and she put her hands to her face before anyone could notice. Or maybe they weren't even paying attention. Maybe she was the only one aware that her heart was hammering out of her chest. She let out a low breath, bordering on a sigh and was relieved when neither Jason nor Sookie made a comment.

_"He's summoning you." _

Birdie shook her head.

"You alright, Bird?" Jason asked, raising an eyebrow at her in the rearview mirror.

"Mmm." Birdie hummed, nodding. "Just tired."

Birdie should have been tired. It was late, and the better part of the day had been spent moving into a house where the ghosts of her past lurked around every corner. Lafayette and Sam were still waiting there with Tara. And Birdie knew that they were waiting for Sookie, not her. She had been absent for six years – she was separate from them all now. It would take time, like everything else, for Birdie to feel integrated again.

She was different. And even though everyone noticed, all her friends were either too polite or too reluctant to acknowledge it.

It was that small streak of change, of rebelliousness against the person she had been before grief swept in and wrecked her life, that whispered to her a name; Eric Northman.

_"It seems that he likes what he sees_…_"_

So had she.

As Jason pulled back up at the house, yawning, Birdie was deep in her own mind thinking of the events that had unfolded at Fangtasia repeatedly.

A disbelieving smile played across Birdie's lips as she exited the car, half convinced she was in a dream. But she wasn't.

She was home.


	4. 03 Love Is to Die

_**Hi everyone! **_

_**I apologize for the late update. As I said, I'm in the middle of prep for my final exams and I also managed to come down with the flu in the middle of it all. That was a little less than convenient, I will say. I would like to thank Forever yours34 for reviewing! I really appreciate the kinds words, I definitely needed to hear them today! As usual, I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. And if you have any thoughts, please leave them for me in the reviews! Reading them is honestly the highlight of my week. **_

_**The song for the chapter this week comes straight from the show. It's "Love Is to Die" by Warpaint. I really should have the story playlist up and running soon, I just haven't had the chance to create/organize it yet. Again, thank you so much for your support, and enjoy your week! (Might double post, but I'm not sure yet). **_

_**-lightinside17**_

* * *

**03.****| Love Is to Die**

"You've been here a week already, Birdie, don't you think that it's time you started cleaning out the attic? You know. Just for some extra space."

Birdie sighed into her coffee cup and raised an eyebrow at Sookie Stackhouse. Her friend had shown up at six a.m. sharp with bagels from Birdie's favorite little diner a few blocks over – she should have known it was a bribe. "Did you come here just to tell me what to do, or did you actually want to enjoy my company?"

Sookie hung her head sheepishly. A guilty smile played across her lips. "A little of both?"

Birdie snorted. "Fair. And that's all Mom's… it's her stuff." She shrugged. "I'll get around to it when I get around to it."

"So, I'm guessin' that's never." Sookie half-asked, helping herself to a bagel as she sat down across from Birdie at the breakfast table.

"I don't know. I'll take my time and see what happens." Birdie looked at the clock that hung on the wall behind Sookie's head. It ticked quietly, but the sound resounded in the small kitchen so loudly that Birdie had the inclination to escape to the living room. "Don't you have work?"

"Shortly." Sookie tore off a piece of her bagel and popped it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Are you comin' in to work tonight?"

Birdie shrugged. "It's completely up to Tara. I don't think she's too thrilled about Sam hirin' me to help her out."

"That's just Tara. You know that."

"I guess." Birdie said, a little too quietly. "I really think somethin's up. She bailed on dinner a few nights ago. I really think she's avoiding me. It didn't used to be like that. We were all like family. I missed a lot, didn't I?"

Sookie didn't answer right away. Birdie took that as her answer, no matter what Sookie said next. For a situation that had been out of her control, she'd been outed from the group. "You missed a lot." She admitted. "But it happens. You had to go your own way, Birdie, don't let Tara or _anybody_ make you feel guilty for that."

Birdie didn't miss the fact that Sookie skimmed over the details of the reason for her departure. They all did that. None of them had known quite what to say since then. Birdie busied herself by swirling the remnants of her coffee around the bottom of her cup, refusing to entertain the possibility that she would _never_ again be on the same wavelength as her friends.

"I'll try." She murmured finally. "And I'll let you know if Sam calls me in to work."

Sookie nodded and stood, brushing crumbs from her white uniform top. "If I don't see you later, I'll plan on coming by after my shift, if that's alright? I'll bring dinner."

Birdie eyed her friend suspiciously. "When, exactly, are you going to stop feeling like you have to babysit me every night?"

"When you stop thinking about the prick who made you run home and get out to kickstart your life here again." Sookie shot back sassily, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. She shoved the bagels toward Birdie. "And, for fuck's sake, _eat something_."

Birdie plucked a bagel from the sack, ignoring the knife that seemed to twist in her ribs, and took a bite that was a little too ambitious. She had to work around chipmunk cheeks to speak. "_Happy now_?"

"Dancing on the ceiling." Sookie grinned. And then, with a cheeky wave of her hand, she was out the door and gone before Birdie could say goodbye.

In the silence, Birdie realized why it was that Sookie thought she couldn't be left alone. She closed her eyes and listened to the ticking of the clock. The house was too big, too empty, and too quiet. Sookie came around consistently to make sure Birdie didn't lose her mind.

Birdie still wasn't so sure that she hadn't already.

She thought about everything that waited for her up in the attic. All the boxes, the clothes, the photos. Birdie wondered if she could ever face those things. If she would ever be able to look at pictures of her mother and feel like her heart wasn't being ripped from her chest. Ready or not, Birdie wouldn't be able to abide proving Sookie right. She would have to traverse the past if she were ever to move forward.

So, Birdie finished her coffee and stood from the breakfast table. And after taking a deep breath, she started for the stairs.

* * *

**xxx**

It was much worse than Birdie had dared to allow herself to imagine. Thick dust covered everything, acting as a last defense in Birdie's behalf. It was providing her with an excuse to abandon the job. She didn't dwell on all the cobwebs but instead stomped down the attic ladder and back down the stairs to prepare to dive into the ruin she wished she could ignore. Armed with a mask, paper towels, spray, and a broom, Birdie made the climb once more into the attic space.

Little by little, Birdie cleared the dust away. The mask saved her from inhaling too much of it, but the dankness of the air around her didn't do much to ventilate the newly clean spaces. Birdie walked as carefully as possibly across the space to the boarded-up window and, with very little effort, ripped the rotting boards straight away from where they clung to the wall on either side of the glass.

Opening the window was more difficult. She would have to call Sam to come have a look at the wood around it – the glass seemed bowed, the wood worn by time and weather. It stuck in several places before Birdie finally was able to force it open. Light flooded the attic, nearly blinding after spending time in near-darkness.

She could see so much more – the boxes that were stacked into the previously pitch-black corners, her mother's wardrobe, and – Birdie smiled – her record player. She searched momentarily for anything that might be labeled to reveal her mother's old records. Finding nothing, Birdie gingerly cleaned the grime and dust from the record player and carefully carried it down from the attic.

_One down_, she thought.

Next came the contents of her mother's wardrobe, loaded into plastic bags and rolled gently down the attic stairs until she could deal with them. And then the boxes of shoes and handbags. Birdie decided reluctantly to sort through them and give away what she could – _if _she could.

There were certain things that Birdie knew, if found, would never leave her possession. In her mind's eye, she could see her mother in her favorite pastel green dress. The one she sometimes wore to church on Sundays, but that Birdie most prominently remembered from afternoons spent picking wildflowers in the summers.

Everything else had yet to be determined. As she trekked once more into the attic to find at least one record, Birdie tried not to think of what it would mean if she were to really stay in Bon Temps. Unreasonably, she was still viewing it as something temporary. But she had nothing in Portland now. Her aunt had washed her hands of Birdie the moment she'd broken her engagement off and decided to return home. It hadn't been permanent until then. Birdie had never dreamed she would end up in Louisiana again.

Now, here she was. Covered in dust, soot, and cobwebs from head to toe. Hauling the memory of her mother around like dead weight. Birdie sighed and muttered bitterly to herself as she waded through boxes, reading the labels as quickly as she could.

_PHOTOS. _

_BIRDIE'S BABY CLOTHES. _

_BIRDIE (KINDERGARTEN). _

_PORTLAND '92_

It wasn't often that Birdie managed to be caught by surprise. As meticulous about preserving memories as her mother had been, Birdie hadn't known that she kept anything from her first visit to see her aunt. _Their _first visit together. She mentally catalogued the box to retrieve later and waded further in.

_STUFFED ANIMALS._

_BIRDIE'S BOOKS. _

_RECORDS (SOME)._

Birdie hefted the last box over her shoulder, grunting with the effort even as she prayed not to drop it. That would be the very last straw. Other than that infamous green dress, this was what Birdie remembered most when she thought of her mother. Her music.

She managed to get the box all the way downstairs before abandoning it next to the record player. Even though there were more somewhere in the attic, Birdie would be damned if she made one more trip. So, she chose the first record from the box and put it on.

Otis Redding's voice filled the house in an instant. Birdie sat herself down, dragged a bag of clothes toward her, and started digging.

* * *

**xxx**

Unable to feel her legs, back cramping, Birdie pushed away from the mountain of clothes on either side of her and laid down in the floor with a groan.

It had been five hours since Sookie left her. And the work Birdie had thought would take very little time at all was starting to steal her whole day away. She reached into the pocket of her overalls and pulled out her cell phone. Punching a number on the speed dial, Birdie put the phone to her ear and waited.

It rang until Birdie thought it would go to voicemail. And then someone picked up. "Hello?" Tara answered flatly. At the sound of her voice, Birdie nearly lost her courage.

"Hey." Birdie said awkwardly. "It's me. I've gotten myself into a little bit of a pickle."

"Yeah, I know who it is. What is it? I'm a little busy." Tara snapped back, unthinkingly cold.

Birdie chewed her bottom lip for a moment, wondering if she should even bother telling Tara about her mom's stuff that now surrounded her in piles. The stuff that she was finding it difficult to sort through, let alone get rid of. "Sorry I bothered you." Birdie murmured finally.

Tara was the one to pause this time. A long sigh came through the receiver. "You aren't bothering me, Bird."

"Could have fooled me."

"Yeah, well. Whatever. What's wrong?"

"I need a little help at the house. Sookie is at work or I would have called her – I got ahead of myself, getting Mom's stuff down, and now it's sorta everywhere and I can't seem to figure out what to do with what or where to put it."

"I'll be there in a few." Tara answered, and Birdie heard keys jingling in the background. "Did you at least eat somethin'?"

"Why does everyone assume I'm gonna starve?" Birdie asked, close to fuming. It seemed that everyone thought she'd regressed to the point of being completely helpless.

"Just tell me if you fuckin' ate."

"This morning." Birdie replied through her teeth.

"I'm bringing lunch. Don't do anything til I get there." Tara ordered and hung up the phone. Birdie dropped her cell on the floor beside her, rolling her eyes.

"No worries." She said to herself and tossed one of her mother's blouses back into the black trash bag that it had come from.

By the time Tara showed up on Birdie's doorstep, all she had managed to do was clear off the sofa and one of the living room chairs. Birdie heard Tara slam the door to her car from all the way inside the house. Sighing, she stood from her seat on the floor and stretched. Though it was too late, asking Tara to assist her felt like a mistake. There was no doubt that she would not bother to mask her displeasure regarding Birdie's choice to start such a large project alone.

She was wishing suddenly that Lafayette would read her mind and come to her rescue. If there was ever someone who didn't mind going through clothes, it would be him.

Birdie limped to the door on dead legs and was startled into stillness when she heard the side door swing open, banging against the side of the house.

"Stop leaving this damn door unlocked, Birdie." Tara called as she stomped toward the fridge, unloading whatever she'd brought with her. "Even though the vampires can't come in, it don't mean that some murderer won't."

"I unlocked it for you." Birdie lied, running weary hands over her face. She had forgotten to worry about the door that led off to the side-porch, as she'd done all her life. It was a bad habit, just a thoughtless thing. Tara knew that. But Birdie lied anyway.

Tara slammed the fridge shut and walked around the corner. She stopped in the middle of the mess and let out a low whistle. "It looks like a tornado tore through here."

Birdie nodded. "I knew it was bad. But now that I'm lookin' at it from up here, it's even worse than I thought."

"You didn't think about waiting to drag all this junk down?" Tara demanded, crossing her arms.

Birdie tried to act like Tara's words didn't sting. "If I had, it would have rotted away up there until my grandkids got ahold of it."

Another lie, but barely. This was how it was with Tara. She said what she pleased without any thought for the other person's feelings. And when Birdie was that other person, she felt that she had to lie to save face in front of Tara. If Birdie were to say what she truly thought of the things Tara let fall from her mouth, she doubted that they would ever speak to each other again.

Birdie wished she were braver about that. Maybe one day she would be. But, for now, all she needed was Tara's muscle. Not her mouth. Not her advice.

"You just start with the left side. It's mostly pants and jackets – what I've seen of it. I'll take the right. And let me know if you find Mama's green dress, alright?"

Tara rolled her eyes, acting as if Birdie should know better. Usually Birdie was a non-violent person. But seeing the arrogance and exasperation written over every inch of Tara's body, she would have liked nothing more than to punch her friend in the jaw. "Under your bed, in that box she always kept it in. Sookie found it. She figured you would want it. I guess she was right." Tara gave the living room another once-over. "If you did all this looking for that dress –"

"I didn't." Birdie cut her off. And while she wanted nothing more than to run upstairs and pull out that box, she stayed put. She would show no such relief in front of Tara. It would be an emotional moment. Tara didn't have the patience for those. She would think it silly and unnecessary if Birdie cried over a lump of fabric. So, she stayed where she was. Silently, without meeting Tara's gaze, she began sorting the moth-eaten clothes from the intact.

There were so many, more than Birdie realized, that didn't make it. She passed those on to Tara to throw away and tried not to look as they were hauled through the door.

Pieces of the past, she thought. Nothing more.

It was time to bid them goodbye.

* * *

**xxx**

Twilight settled in over the gravestone of Evangeline Chapman, gentle and familiar. And the daughter that Evangeline had never witnessed grow into a woman sat at its foot vigilantly, staring at the place her name had been etched in the stone, wearing a green dress.

The fabric kissed Birdie's skin, perfect in all the right places. It had been a surprise, to say the least. That Evangeline's dress would fit her. That Birdie would lose her breath at the sight of herself in a mirror. For a split second, it hadn't been her reflection in the mirror, but her mother's. And it was then that she fled – from the mirror, her mother's house, only to find herself seeking comfort that would not come from the one person she could never speak to again.

She had the vague thought that she was dirtying her clothes by sitting on the grass. But in the fading light, amongst the quiet chirping of the crickets, there was something like peace that surrounded her. It did not patch the hole in her heart, but it quenched it. That was enough.

"They treat me like a child. Like I've been gone so long that I forgot how to act. How to be one of them." She murmured to the gravestone. It felt ridiculous, but Birdie squeezed her eyes shut and went on. No one was around. "Tara. I shouldn't say 'they' because it doesn't seem fair. But it's enough to make me feel like I don't belong here anymore." She paused, warm wind caressing her face as it whistled through the graves. "Maybe I don't."

There it was. The truth that seemed so hard to swallow and yet impossible to avoid. Birdie thought she returned home. It never occurred to her beforehand that there might not _be _a real home waiting for her. The house was empty, her friends were strangers to her, and there was no going back to Portland. She had no fiancée. No aunt, not anymore.

Birdie had no place to go.

It got harder to breathe after that.

Despite the tightness in her chest, Birdie kept murmuring to her mother's headstone. She told her story from beginning to end. Her fiancée left her for someone he said was more sophisticated, less of an embarrassment. He always hated that Birdie could never shake her accent, even with nearly ten years out of Louisiana. The other girl was gorgeous, like a noir film star. Aloof, dignified, and even when she was displeased she never lost her smile. She had been there the day Oliver asked Birdie to move out of their apartment. She had been there the day Birdie surrendered her engagement ring, along with her copy of the keys without being able to utter a word of protest. And through it all, as though she'd won some fabulous prize, she smiled.

In a voice like honey, without affect, she thanked Birdie even as she put an arm around Oliver. For Birdie's grace, she said.

Birdie never said a word back to her, only watched them leave the coffee shop in a daze. She'd walked to the Greyhound station from there. Birdie called Sookie from a dinky bathroom outside Counselor, New Mexico, bawling and embarrassed that she let a man run her straight out of town. Galled that she hadn't had the presence of mind to fight for herself, or at least tell him to rot in hell before handing over her keys. The woman in the adjacent stall had slipped her a tissue underneath the door.

Sookie had been waiting for her at the bus station the next day. Sookie was the only one who smiled at Birdie like she'd never been gone in the first place.

Birdie felt the pressure in her chest easing with every word she breathed.

And even though it was impossible, Birdie felt like someone was listening. The hair on the back of her neck rose. But as she stopped speaking and turned toward the trees, there was nothing. Only the whisper of the wind and the lingering feeling of a gaze that, while not exactly sinister, sent shivers down her spine.

Birdie rose, taking a winding route through the stones back to her car. All the way there, those seconds that stretched into hours, she couldn't help but think of Tara's quip about vampires. There was a slight quiver in Birdie's hand as she cranked the ignition. And as soon as she arrived home, she checked and locked all the doors.

Even the side-porch.


	5. 04 Haunt

_**Okay, so this IS a week where I double post, imagine that. Hi guys! I just absolutely failed an exam that I skipped a Snow Patrol concert to study for and am a very sad individual right now. But I went and checked my email and saw a bunch of guest reviews and I just wanted to say thank you to Anonymous V and Permisable! You guys could not have better timing, I appreciate your kindness so much. I am so happy you're enjoying the story! (I am highkey trash for Birdie and Eric, all of my friends hate me because I talk about them all the time. So, it's nice to know Birdie is growing on you, too!). **_

_**The song for this chapter is one of my favorites because it is SUCH a mood. It is "Haunt" by the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. Such VIBES y'all. And now I'll leave you to your reading! Thank you so much again for supporting me and this story. It means the world. **_

_**-lightinside**_

* * *

**04.****| Haunt**

The next morning, Birdie awoke with the sun and readied herself for work. Her limbs were heavy with sleep as she showered and dried her hair. And it seemed that the more coffee she drank, the more she yawned. She didn't understand how she could be so exhausted. She hardly ever dreamed anymore. She hadn't been inhibited by nightmares in months. Pleasant dreams were even harder to come by.

Though Sam had promised not to force the usual Merlotte's uniform on her, it was much too hot for anything other than shorts. With a resigned sigh, Birdie crawled into her car and drove to work, travel mug in hand. She was still yawning when she bumped the front door of Merlotte's open with her hip.

"You'll let flies in that way." Arlene Fowler called, letting down the chairs that were stacked on top of the tables. "Don't you sleep?"

"Sometimes." Birdie called back, scowling at the red-headed waitress. The word had less bite to it than she wanted. She meandered back toward the kitchen and stowed her bags in the lockers reserved for staff. Her mug stayed in her hand. She took a long sip of coffee, relishing the way it warmed her throat despite the heat outside. She hoped the caffeine would hit her soon enough.

Lafayette was not yet in the kitchen. Birdie tried to control her disappointment when she saw Terry, Arlene's husband, milling around there instead. Waving politely, she bid him good morning and then excused herself to help Arlene set up the dining area.

"Where in the world is Sookie?" Arlene demanded, crossing her arms. It took a moment for Birdie to realize that Arlene directed this question at her.

"I really don't know." Birdie answered, beginning to put out salt and pepper on the tables that were now clear. "Was she supposed to be here?"

"That girl." Arlene said, shaking her head. It wasn't that Arlene was particularly loud, but she was shrill. And that made up the difference plenty. "I swear, she shouldn't even have this job. She's always callin' out, always late. I don't know why Sam keeps her around."

Birdie stared at her, incredulous. "You know somethin', Arlene? I'm not so sure I'm the person you should be sayin' this to."

Arlene suddenly seemed to remember who it was exactly that she was complaining to. Her cheeks turned the same shade of red as her hair as she stammered, turning her back on Birdie to clumsily continue her job. Birdie shook her head and had to consciously close her mouth. That southern charm that Birdie had nearly forgotten reared its head. The gossip of the locals. People that felt the need, claimed the right, to voice their biased opinions about things they had no real knowledge of.

Birdie was reminded of just how much Arlene was a part of that petty practice almost every time she opened her mouth. It didn't mean that Arlene was not a good person. She was one of the kindest people that Birdie knew. But she had a very unfortunate habit of sticking her nose where it absolutely did not belong.

Birdie chewed her lip for a minute as she unloaded her trays. Napkins, salt, pepper, repeat. Finally, she sighed. "Arlene?" She watched as Arlene turned around, a fresh blush of embarrassment staining her cheeks. "Just cut her some slack, alright? Sookie does a lot around here. Even you can't deny her that."

Arlene's mouth opened and closed a few times. Birdie thought she looked a lot like a fish. Gaping and alarmed, much as she should have been. Though it was the decent response, Birdie felt guilty. "I guess I can't." The woman admitted and turned her back to Birdie again. That was that. Birdie wondered how long it would take before Arlene could look her in the eye. A few days, at the most. She would be embarrassed long after Birdie stopped thinking about the encounter entirely.

As they readied the restaurant to open, Birdie settled into a familiar rhythm that she thought would be lost to her. It was easy. And she didn't dread the customers, though she knew they would whisper behind her back. Birdie had Mrs. Fortenberry to thank for that. Declining the job that she pulled strings to set up was like spitting in her face. While Birdie thought that a dramatic comparison, she knew the way people thought in Bon Temps. And that wasn't too far from the mark.

"Ready?" Terry called. "Kitchen's up and running."

"Hold your horses, Terry Belfleur." Arlene shouted huffily. "There's only two of us out here doin' all this work." She glanced back at Birdie almost shyly. No doubt testing the atmosphere to see if Birdie would hold her in unforgiveness. "How's it comin' over there, honey?"

"It's comin'." Birdie replied with a smile, setting out the last of the napkins. "I think that should do it." She wiped at her forehead, mildly warm even with the air conditioning working as hard as it could to cool the bar and grill. "It's sweltering out there." She sighed. "I'd forgotten about that part."

"Oh, my." Arlene laughed nervously. "It must be strange to be back after all that time."

Birdie nodded. "Yeah. It has its moments."

Arlene bobbed her head, as if she wasn't sure what to say. And when she excused herself to go retrieve more napkins, though there was no need for them, Birdie let her go. Blessedly, people began to trickle in and Birdie never had to be left to her own thoughts. She smiled and jotted down orders and took them to Terry to carry out. She fetched ketchup and mustard and extra napkins and drinks and sidestepped several hands that reached out, hoping to graze her backside.

If Lafayette had been there, no one would have dared such behavior. But Lafayette never came in to work. Terry was too lost in the chaos of the kitchen to notice anything else. Birdie didn't hold it against him. He was already of a nervous disposition. He rarely looked anyone in the eye. The fact that he was functioning as well as he did was a marvel to Birdie. If she had been to war and was haunted every day the way Terry was, she wasn't sure that she could do much of anything afterward.

The day passed. Sookie never showed up and Arlene only grew shriller. It wasn't until Holly Cleary came in, five hours after Birdie's shift should have been over, that Birdie was able to unofficially clock out.

Holly seemed kind. Petite and blonde, around Arlene's age – it seemed that she got along with everyone. And when she turned her sweet smile on Birdie and asked for help with one last table, Birdie found it nearly impossible to refuse her. Without even slipping her apron back on, Birdie bustled to the kitchen and picked up the two plates waiting for her and thanked Terry with a smile. His lips flickered in an attempt to return it and he ducked his head.

Birdie grinned as she rounded the corner, only to realize that her intended table seated Maxine Fortenberry and her son Hoyt. Hoyt was a lovely man, Birdie knew that from all the praise that dripped from Jason Stackhouse like honey. Hoyt was his best friend. Hell, probably his only friend outside of Birdie and his sister. A horndog if ever there was one. Always in the middle of trouble. But Hoyt paid no mind to what people tried to whisper in his ear about Jason or Sookie.

She wondered if he would do the same for her.

Birdie forced herself to keep the grin plastered to her face as she stopped right in front of Mrs. Fortenberry. And prayed silently to God that the sour look on her face wouldn't evaporate Birdie where she stood. "Hi, y'all. A burger and fries and one shrimp and grits?"

"I'm the burger." Hoyt said, smiling broadly. "Damn, Bird, it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too." Birdie said earnestly, setting down the plates in front of them. "Just as handsome as ever, I see." She winked conspiratorially at Hoyt, who blushed even though he laughed. It was the truth – Hoyt was very handsome in an endearing sort of way. He'd been a well-behaved little boy and had grown into a gracious, humble young man.

"Nah." He said, shaking his head. "You must have somethin' in your eye."

Birdie giggled, barely holding back a snort. But the mood of the table evaporated as Maxine opened her mouth. "You gave up a job at the salon to go back to bussin' tables." Her voice oozed judgement and disappointment. "I don't know why I tried helpin' you distinguish yourself. Can't plug your nose and pretend the trash doesn't smell."

Birdie's smile evaporated. As did Hoyt's. He turned on his mother, fire in his eyes. "_Damn it_, Mama." He hissed. "Apologize right now."

"I will do no such thing." She said, turning her nose up in the air. "Small-minded, low station help. I should have known. Same as your mama. Only she didn't run around with fangers. She would roll over in her grave if she could see you now."

Hoyt leapt up from his chair, gaining the attention of at least half the bar. Birdie was hardly aware of it. Her skin was prickling, her heart hammering. Her hands shook, not with fear but with the intensity of the anger that swept through her like a raging storm. She could vaguely hear Hoyt, voice raised, taking up for her.

Arlene came sweeping around the corner at the sound of the commotion, a little too eager to simply be concerned. Birdie was having an out of body experience, all the while trying to calm down. Trying to convince herself that Maxine didn't mean what she said. No one could be that cruel. No one could be that awful.

Finally, just as Hoyt threw his napkin on the table, the sound came rushing back into Birdie's ears. She paused, flattening her palms against her thighs, and swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in her throat.

"Mrs. Fortenberry…" Birdie tried not to notice the way that everyone went quiet to see what she said next. "While I understand you might be upset that I didn't take the opportunity you set up for me, know that I do _not_ understand how you can be so spiteful. I do not understand how you can sit there and insult someone you never took the time to know."

Maxine's mouth fell open and she put a meaty hand to her heart. "Why, I _never_!"

But Birdie wasn't finished. "And furthermore, you may say what you like about me. But you will never again breathe another poisoned word against my mama. Or Sookie Stackhouse." She rubbed her balmy hands against her shorts and straightened her shoulders. "I feel sorry for you. With a tongue as forked as yours, you can't have many real friends. And I imagine that must be very lonely indeed."

Maxine Fortenberry looked like she might have a heart attack. No one spoke. And then suddenly, Hoyt began to grin. He extended an arm to Birdie with a flourish. "I couldn't have said it better myself. May I escort you home?"

"Hoyt!" Maxine cried breathlessly. Arlene was watching raptly, a hand over her mouth. But even that couldn't hide the gleam in her eye that let Birdie know the whole town would know of this exchange before sundown.

"Thank you, Hoyt." Birdie took his arm and allowed him to lead her from Merlotte's. From the corner of her eye, she saw Holly dragging Arlene away from the scene she'd caused, even as Arlene tried to whisper excitedly in her ear.

Birdie fought back a blush, avoiding curious gazes as Hoyt held open the door for her. Her skin itched a little less than before, but the sensation was replaced by the sinking feeling that she might upchuck all over her shoes. She wouldn't lose her job for telling Maxine Fortenberry off. Sam wouldn't be upset with her for long, if at all. But to have done it in front of all those people…

No sooner than they reached Birdie's car, Hoyt crowed triumphantly. "God Almighty, Birdie, you cooked the old crow good."

"Hoyt!" Birdie couldn't even find the strength to smack his arm. Not when nausea still lingered so near. "That's your mama."

He only laughed. "Even I know how horrible she can be. I'm _beyond_ thrilled that you stood up to her. Most people don't. And besides. You can't choose your family. I don't like the way she talks about people. I don't have to defend her."

Birdie shook her head. "I didn't know whether to walk out or break her nose." That made Hoyt laugh even harder. "I'm sorry." Birdie covered her face with her hands. "You know she can do that to people."

"Believe me, I know it better than anybody."

"I'm so sorry, Hoyt." She said again, running her hands through her hair. "That was unprofessional. And just… I shouldn't have."

"You should have." Hoyt said seriously, taking her arm. "I mean it, Birdie. Don't you dare let anyone in this town piss all over you without even the courtesy of callin' it rain. Call it like you see it. I know you're capable. And if you hold back to save the feelings of someone who doesn't care a thing about yours, I'll be awful mad."

Birdie nodded. "Okay. Alright. Thank you. For this and for stickin' up for me."

Hoyt grinned. "Anytime, Bird. I've got your back."

"If I didn't know it before, I do now." She dug her keys from her apron and jingled them in her hand. "You don't really have to escort me home, you know. But there's pecan pie at the house if you'd like a slice."

"Well, I'm certainly not going back in there." Hoyt scowled in the direction of the front door. "You sure you don't mind?"

"Of course not! I'll even drop you home if you want to leave your mama the truck."

"I left the keys on the table anyway." Hoyt sighed. "I'd really appreciate it, Birdie."

"Come on, then." Birdie unlocked the car and cranked the ignition. And on the way back home, she found herself telling Hoyt the things she couldn't bear to confess to anyone other than Sookie. He, in turn, told her about Jessica Hanby. His vampire girlfriend. Birdie's mouth fell open before she could stop it, causing Hoyt to turn a deep red.

"Yeah, I know." He muttered, rubbing at his neck. "But she's the best girl I know. The kindest, most wonderful, loving person I know."

"That's all that matters." Birdie said. Hoyt breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm just surprised Maxine hasn't called together a prayer circle to throw holy water on you yet."

"That's a very real possibility." Hoyt replied, huffing a laugh. "It doesn't matter, though. I sort of love her. Jessica. I _really_ love her. It's done – I'm gone." He shrugged. "Whatever happens now is out of my hands."

Birdie had a fleeting thought as she drove. Blue eyes and a wicked smile and a cup full of blood. Her cheeks flamed.

That was an accurate assessment if she'd ever heard one.

* * *

**xxx**

After fulfilling her promise of pie and a ride home to Hoyt, Birdie found herself back in her mother's house again. Hair pulled away from her neck, music blasting, she continued what she started the day before. This time, she didn't need Tara's help.

Sorting the clothes was easier somehow. More methodical than sentimental. She had what she wanted – the dress and her mother's jewelry and some photo albums that hadn't yet been looked through. But that was enough. And everything else, Birdie decided to make her own. The older pieces of furniture that had been there when she returned were painstakingly pushed and pulled and tripped over all the way to the side of the road at the end of the driveway.

Whoever came across them would have a field day. It was all in good shape – clean and ready to be used for ten more years at least. But Birdie had to get them out, to give them away. Even though the house was emptier, each piece of furniture that was left was distinctly hers. That made her feel a little lighter than before. She could breathe easier.

As the sun set over Bon Temps, Birdie poured herself a generous glass of wine and sat down primly in the floor. In front of her were at least thirty-five boxes full of nothing but books, sent from Portland courtesy of the ex-fiancée.

It was her ritual. Whenever she began to feel settled in a new place, Birdie would gingerly unpack and organize her books. The shelves never looked the same, never held the same pattern. That was what she found so soothing. It was a minor thing that was in her total control. She could do whatever she liked to it. And so she did.

Birdie felt like it took hours to unload them all. But then there they were, stacked and staggered all across the floor.

She retreated into the quiet place within her mind and began her work.

Later, Birdie stood looking at five very full bookshelves with a distant smile on her face. It was past midnight, and she'd gone through half a bottle of wine while she worked. Her head was buzzing, her knees ached, and even though it was by no means the finishing touch on her mother's house, Birdie felt complete. As if the history held between within those walls would never find a way to touch her again.

As she readied herself for bed, there was a soft knock at the door.

Cautiously, Birdie pulled on her robe and padded toward the source of the noise. But when she went to peek out the window, there was no one on the porch. Only a box.

She dialed Sookie immediately.

"Birdie?" Her friend didn't sound remotely tired. Undoubtedly, she was spending her evening with Bill. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." She tried to keep her heavy tongue from slurring her words. "Listen, someone just dropped a box off on my porch and I just wanted to be on the phone, you know. When I open the door to get it. Just in case someone with foul intentions tries to whisk me away or something." Birdie fidgeted nervously, eyes still on the box outside.

"Do you want me to come over?"

"_No_, just consider yourself my witness." Birdie murmured, attempting a laugh. It came out almost like a wheeze. She opened the door gingerly and peered out before stepping toward the package. She snatched it up and disappeared inside, locking the door with shocking speed.

"What is it?" Sookie asked. "Who sent it?"

Birdie sighed. "Give me a second." She put the phone on speaker and set it down next to the elongated box. Curiously, she studied it. White with a black silk bow tied around the middle, no card on the outside. Long enough for a flower. With nimble fingers, Birdie lifted the top of the box and prayed there was no trick underneath.

There wasn't. Only a small bunch of red flowers. Birdie's breath caught in her throat when she recognized them. Bleeding hearts.

On top of them, there was a note.

_If ever you should need to forget_.

Birdie dropped the note, heart hammering. There was no signature, there didn't need to be. The paper was black, the ink white. At the bottom of the page was a logo – fangs. This note, these flowers, they had come from Fangtasia.

"Birdie?" Sookie's voice caused her to flinch. She had forgotten that her friend was even on the line. "Are you alright? What is it?"

"Nothing." Birdie tried to keep her voice even. "Another box of my things from Oliver." _Please don't hear the lie, don't hear the lie, don't hear the lie_.

"Oh!" Sookie exclaimed. There was an edge of sarcasm to her voice "Wonderful. Maybe in about ten years' time, you'll finally have all your things."

Birdie forced herself to laugh. It sounded less like wheezing this time and more like a cough caught in her throat. She cleared it, just in case. "Yeah. Well, anyway. No fire. I'll let you get on with your night – tell Bill I say hello."

"I will! How would you feel about the three of us meeting for dinner one night? I would love for you two to meet."

"Sure!" Birdie said, still staring at the note that lay atop the bleeding hearts. It made her own heart do rather funny things inside her chest. "I would love that. Just say when."

_What if I accepted the offer_?

Birdie started at her own train of thought and shoved it aside. No. She couldn't do that, could she? That would be absolutely mad. She'd seen Eric Northman, perched atop his throne. He was perfectly accustomed to getting exactly what he wanted. It was some game, made infinitely more interesting because Birdie had refused him. It wasn't a threat or a demand. Only an offer. And _that_ was what Birdie found curious.

She chewed her lip as she considered the facts. Bleeding hearts. Is that what he thought of her? What would she do? Her bare feet suddenly itched, her limbs restless suddenly, as if there was somewhere she had to be.

"_Birdie_." Sookie's voice brought her back to reality. "Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry, what?"

"How's tomorrow after sundown?" Sookie emphasized the words in a way that made Birdie think she'd already said them several times.

"Perfect." Birdie said. "I'll meet you at yours?"

"Sounds like a plan!" Sookie squealed happily. "Now, get some rest. And lock the side-door."

Birdie smiled. "I will and I did. Goodnight, Sook."

After hanging up the phone, Birdie took one last look at the bleeding hearts in their box. Gently, she placed the top back on the box, leaving the note inside. Putting the flowers in a vase would raise the possibility that one of her friends would see them. They would ask questions that Birdie didn't have answers to.

Birdie slid the box on top of the fridge with no small amount of reluctance. And after checking all the doors, she went upstairs and cut out the light.


	6. 05 Mr Sandman

_**Hi everyone! I made it through one of my finals, still have two to go, but I'm officially five days from total freedom. And as promised, I did make a playlist! From the 14 chapters and 1/2 that I've written so far, I pulled my favorite songs from both the chapter titles and ones I used for general inspiration. If you would like the link, please send me a message! I'm having a hard time attaching it as a copy/paste. **_

_**The song this week is "Mr. Sandman" re-imagined by SYML (who just released a new album, for those of you as obsessed with his music as I am). This chapter is actually so thirsty, I can't believe I wrote it and now I'm actually putting it out into the world. So, I hope you guys enjoy it? I don't know. I'll be around sipping tea trying to drown my embarrassment. Thank you Anonymous V and Courtney-Tamara for reviewing on the last chapter! **__**I hope to hear from you all in the reviews!**_

_**-lightinside**_

* * *

**05\. ****| Mr. Sandman**

The following evening, Birdie readied herself for dinner with her childhood friend and her boyfriend with less than usual gusto. Dinner was meant to be an exciting excursion. Birdie usually couldn't wait to have an excuse to dress up and go out on the town. But she wondered what exactly it was that she was in for.

Bill was probably perfectly kind and respectable. He had to be if Sookie was dating him. Sookie didn't tolerate any underhanded behavior for very long at all. But beyond the prospect of not knowing what to say, as was the case anytime Birdie met someone new, there was the problem of the bleeding hearts stashed on top of her fridge. She had been over a thousand different scenarios in her head all day and still was unsure of whether to let the invitation lie or confront the one who sent it.

She absolutely could not skip dinner. She wouldn't do that to Sookie, or even Bill though she hadn't yet met him.

But she could take a detour.

**xxx**

Halfway to Shreveport, Birdie dialed Sookie's number, half hoping that she wouldn't pick up the phone. But, of course, Sookie picked up on the third ring.

"Birdie?"

Birdie bit her tongue to keep from sighing. "Hey, Sookie!"

"You're cancelling." Sookie said.

"Oh my god, _no_!" Birdie exclaimed, mouth falling open. "I just need to budge dinner by about an hour. Is that alright?"

Sookie sighed, obviously relieved. "Yes, oh my goodness. I was so afraid you weren't coming for a minute."

"I would never cancel on you, Sook. I know how important this is to you." Birdie promised. "I just need a little breathing room to take care of something."

"Are you alright?" Sookie demanded. "Do you need me to come get you?"

"I'm _fine_." Birdie hushed her. "Good gracious. I just have to… get tampons." She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror, gaping. Why tampons? Why would she say that? Going to see a vampire in Shreveport versus heading to the store for tampons.

"_Oh_!" Sookie laughed. "Alright, okay. Just be careful and we'll see you in an hour?"

"An hour." Birdie said and hung up after saying goodbye. She hung her head and groaned out loud. "Tampons." She muttered. "Unbelievable."

Birdie pulled up in the parking lot outside Fangtasia in record time, having pushed the speed limit the rest of the way to Shreveport. She didn't give herself time to debate. She didn't even sit in the car long enough to cut the A/C. She cut the ignition and threw her feet out of the car and onto the pavement, slamming the door closed without looking back.

Birdie walked with purpose, checking her pocket discreetly as she went. The same bouncer from her first visit stood adjacent to a velvet rope, looking her up and down. Catcalls rang out from the left as Birdie faced him down.

Her skin felt hot, her pulse thrumming in her ears as she clenched her jaw and motioned to the door.

"I'm here to see Eric."

"I know." The bouncer grinned, showing off teeth that had been filed into points. A mouthful of fangs. She didn't remember that from before. The surprise had the effect that he wanted – Birdie was terrified. "It's just nice to see a little color in your cheeks."

"Let me through." Birdie insisted and then thought better of it. "_Please_."

He removed the rope and swept his arms into a mocking bow. "After you."

Birdie ignored the insult and swept past him and away from the drunks that still called after her, even as the thrum of the music washed their voices away. She strode into the nightclub with purpose, not interested in a drink this time. Penny waved to her as she passed, and Birdie inclined her head in hello even though she never stopped walking. She pushed her way politely through the people dancing and paying her absolutely no mind. But there were two people that Birdie knew were watching her every move.

The blonde met her before she could even take a step up to where Eric Northman lounged languidly, as if he had known Birdie would come looking for him. "That's far enough." The blonde drawled flatly, taking hold of one of Birdie's arms.

Birdie glared at her but didn't struggle. Eric surveyed them both and then, with a wave of his hand, the blonde let her go. "That's not necessary, Pam." He said without raising his voice to be heard over the music. "Miss. Chapman and I have business to discuss."

Pam dipped her head in acknowledgment even as she cast a disgusted glance at Birdie before floating away. Birdie shifted from foot to foot, suddenly aware that she had Eric's full attention. And for a moment, she wasn't quite sure what to do with it. She cleared her throat. "How do you know my name?"

Eric's eyes drifted to the bar. "I have very competent employees."

She forced herself not to look back toward Penny. Instead, she squared her shoulders and took a step toward the throne. "Did you send this?" Birdie asked, pulling the note from her jacket pocket. As if he wouldn't know what she was talking about.

Eric's expression never changed. He merely looked at her. It was the stare of an immortal, something infinite and eternal that made her bones quiver. She was small and insignificant in the crosshairs of that stare. She was dust. And he was making sure that she knew it. "Are you displeased?" He murmured finally.

"Confused." Birdie replied. She forced herself to hold his stare. "I confess that I don't really know what to make of it."

He hummed. A low, contemplative sound that came from the back of his throat. Gooseflesh sprung up all over Birdie's arms. "What would you _like _to make of it?"

She found herself shaking her head. "I don't know why I came here."

"Don't you?" He half-asked, cocking his head to one side. It was only then that he leaned forward, studying her in a way that was almost animalistic. Birdie steeled herself, refusing to let him intimidate her. She didn't budge an inch. "My offer is as stated. I am at your disposal."

Birdie blinked. "What?"

"It is purely selfish." Eric promised, leaning back once more. "_I_ confess that you have captured my curiosity. It is not often that humans hold any interest for me. Consider this a trade. I will help you put aside all those things that make you so _mortal._ And you will allow me your company. It would be of mutual benefit."

"That's all you want." Birdie said incredulously. "A warm body."

"A curious mind to study." As he spoke, Eric's eyes pointedly roved her body. "Anything else is… coincidental."

Birdie felt lightheaded. This was certifiably insane – by all rights, she shouldn't even have been there. She thought about turning and running for the door. "And how exactly would you know what makes me mortal?"

Eric said nothing.

Birdie raised an eyebrow, waiting. He waited. And then it hit her. "It isn't polite to eavesdrop on people's conversations."

He'd been the presence that made her flee the cemetery. The watchful eye that she had never been able to name. Birdie couldn't even be angry. Shock, shame, embarrassment – these were the things that held her in their iron claws.

"You and I have very different definitions of conversation." Eric said. "Evangeline. Your mother?"

Birdie's jaw locked into place. She didn't know whether to scream at him or dissolve into tears. Everything she said that night had been deeply personal. No wonder Eric was so intrigued by her – she was a sideshow act for him. Vampires claimed to have lost their ability to feel deeply the way humans did. Grief was such a changed concept for them. It was fleeting, minimal. As was everything else, apparently.

If Birdie had been in Eric's position, she would have died of shame before listening to a second of someone's personal admissions.

"Yes." She ground out between clenched teeth. "My mother."

"I seem to have upset you." He observed.

"I shouldn't have come here." Birdie said by way of reply. She turned to leave just as Eric's hand shot out, fingers wrapping loosely around her wrist. Only to catch her attention, never to force her to stay. Birdie knew this, could sense it, even as her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest. She turned her gaze toward him, fear flickering in her green eyes.

But there wasn't a trace of anger to be seen on him. That surprised her.

"If you should warm to the idea of our arrangement, I would like you to know that you would never become my human companion. You will be free to live your life as you wish."

"I would never become your blood bag, you mean." Birdie nearly spat the words at him, though she never pulled her wrist from his grasp.

"However you wish to see it." Eric amended. And then her wrist was free. "When you come to me, it will be of your own free will." When Birdie didn't move to leave or speak, he leaned back in his chair. The music came rushing back into Birdie's ears, almost startlingly loud. "Think on it."

She turned on her heels and rushed from Fangtasia, stumbling several times over her own feet. She didn't stop until she reached her car, hurling herself inside and locking the doors. Breathing hard, Birdie leaned her head on the steering wheel. It was only in the quiet that she realized she was trembling.

_When you come to me._

Not if. Never if, not when Eric was so used to getting what he wanted. And he knew that it was a matter of time. Did _she_?

_When._

It required strenuous effort for Birdie to remember to breathe.

Minutes passed. When her hands stilled and the tears that stung her eyes disappeared, Birdie took a deep breath and cranked the ignition.

* * *

**xxx**

Birdie was twenty minutes late to dinner. She had forgotten all about her excuse of buying tampons and rushed to Sookie's porch without her purse. Sookie happily ushered her inside and introduced her to Bill, who smiled politely and shook her hand to maintain a respectful distance. When he excused himself to set the table, Birdie was left alone with Sookie.

She perched herself at the kitchen table, watching Sookie put the finishing touches on a roast chicken. "You didn't have to do all this, you know. It's only me."

"Well, it's our first dinner together since you moved back home." Sookie shrugged. "I wanted it to be nice."

Birdie smiled. "It's like something your Gran would have done."

"I guess it is." Sookie agreed shyly, smiling back. "I don't know if it'll be any good. We'll soon find out, I suppose."

Birdie's mouth went dry. Her thoughts flew immediately back to Fangtasia, to Eric. She got up from her seat and fixed herself a small glass of water. "It's nice." She said absently. "That I still know my way around your kitchen."

"I couldn't bring myself to change anything." Sookie said. "It just didn't feel right."

"I put out Mama's furniture last night." Birdie admitted.

Her friend whirled around, carving knife in hand. It was very Norman Bates. Birdie would have laughed had the conversation not been so serious. "No!"

"I had to. It was time for me to make the house my own. Living in it any other way would have driven me crazy." She sighed. "Besides, I have too many books. I had to make room for them."

Sookie scoffed. "Oh, don't be silly. That's not why."

"It's nice to lighten the mood every now and then, Sookie." She said pointedly. Thankfully, her friend took the hint. She turned around and continued cutting the chicken that Bill would never eat and made lighter conversation about work and their friends.

Dinner was a quaint affair. Birdie was pleased to find that her assumption was right; Bill Compton was a perfect gentleman in every respect. And Sookie was obviously head over heels in love with him. It seemed that the feeling was mutual.

Birdie studied them as close as she dared. Vampires were not supposed to feel as deeply as humans. But that theory clearly was shit. Perhaps it was that most chose not to feel deeply. It occurred to Birdie that maybe, when faced with centuries of life, it was easier not to feel very much at all. It was easier not to make connections that might be severed with time.

Or to make those connections immortal.

She wondered if that was Bill's plan for Sookie. Neither of them mentioned it. Neither seemed concerned with it at present. But surely one or both of them had thought of it. Birdie had to think that if she loved someone that way, she would want to spend forever with them. But hadn't she already wanted it? And had that dream crushed?

Her heart spasmed with an echo of pain. She tried not to wince.

_If ever you should need to forget_.

Birdie took an exceedingly large sip of wine. How would Eric Northman know that? Yes, he'd heard her that night at the cemetery. And now he was privy to information that no one but Sookie knew. It was a bizarre feeling, to have a stranger be so informed regarding Birdie's personal life. She didn't know what to do with it. Was she supposed to allow him full access? Let him pick her brain about Oliver and her silly mortal life with its mortal problems?

Birdie couldn't imagine that Eric would concern himself with details about her ex-fiancée. What exactly was it that he wanted to know? It was an absurd thing to think that he was lonely. He had the blonde, his friend Pam. Well, whatever she was to him.

Friend, employee… what did it matter to him?

"Birdie?" Sookie was gazing at her worriedly, brows knitted together. "Are you okay? You went somewhere just now."

"Fine." Birdie nodded. "I'm just not feeling so well, I think." She turned her attention to Bill and smiled. "How is Jessica? I can't wait to meet her."

Bill chuckled lightly. "She is… _spirited_, to say the least."

Birdie nodded. "I gathered that. Sookie hasn't had to go looking for anyone since Jason graduated high school and stopped drinking so much."

Sookie groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "Oh, my lord, don't remind me. To her credit, Jessica isn't even half the problem child that Jason was. Gran was always bailing him out of trouble."

"And so were we, if I remember right." Birdie laughed out loud. "God, do you remember that time that he thought he lost his keys partying at the football field and walked all the way home? And your Gran found them in his jacket pocket the next morning."

"I paid Hoyt twenty bucks to nick them from Jason's pocket." Sookie admitted, blushing wildly.

"You never told me!"

"Hoyt brought 'em by after Gran went to bed. I was the one who put the keys back in his jacket after he passed out cold in his room."

Birdie and Sookie dissolved into giggles while Bill looked on, grinning from ear to ear. Birdie wiped tears from her eyes and bit back a snort. "I can't believe you did that. Does he know?"

"Of course not." Sookie said. "I'll never tell him. I'll let him keep thinking that he learned a lesson before I admit I set the whole thing up."

They talked of Jason and Tara, of Hoyt and Maxine, though Birdie skipped over the exchange she shared with them the day before. That was something she didn't wish to relive anytime soon. And Birdie found that she enjoyed giving Bill a glimpse into who Sookie was before they met. Before vampires came out of the coffin.

Around the time that lightning split the sky late into the night, Birdie stepped out onto Sookie's porch and said her goodbyes. When Bill stuck out his hand, Birdie shook her head. "No, no. We're acquainted now," and pulled him into a friendly hug. "It was lovely to meet you."

Sookie was beaming at her friend as she took her place at Bill's side.

"And you as well, Birdie." He said, ducking his head. The perfect picture of a southern gentleman.

She hugged Sookie and promised that they would do dinner again soon and dashed to her car just as the rain came pouring down. It was a lot like Portland – a floodgates opening sort of rain. It was surprising and inconvenient considering that Birdie couldn't see very well because of all the water. And it was because of this that she couldn't wait to get home.

By the time she pulled up in her driveway, it was two a.m. The rain kept pouring, growing worse as the minutes passed. She sat in her car, hands on the steering wheel, staring at her door.

For some reason, she couldn't make herself go inside.

Maybe it was the rain. Or the wine. Or the full moon. But Birdie sat, listening to the idling of the engine and imagined pulling away from the house. She closed her eyes and imagined the roads she might take – all the possibilities that lead nowhere.

All but one.

_When._

Thunder clapped, reverberating in Birdie's throat. She opened her eyes and slowly, she put the car in gear.

* * *

**xxx**

This time, Birdie pulled up outside Fangtasia calmly. There was no sense of urgency, no fear that she might be found out. No excuses to make. And, as if he were expecting her, the frightening bouncer from before allowed her through the rope without a word.

Soaked to the bone, Birdie Chapman stepped inside to meet her fate.

She found him in an instant, shadowed only by Pam as he looked out over the nightclub. Birdie stood perfectly still, taking him in like she had never seen him before. She committed the scene to memory because, whatever happened, there was no going back.

His eyes met hers and all thought vanished from her mind. Music pulsing in her veins, mixing with fear and adrenaline and _euphoria_, she traversed the sea of bodies in seconds. Abandoning reason gave Birdie a rush that she had hardly ever experienced. It was intoxicating enough that it granted her the boldness she needed to speak.

"You made me an offer." She said, not bothering to raise her voice. Birdie well knew that he could hear her perfectly.

Eric never shifted in his seat, even as he ran his eyes over every inch of bare skin, still beaded with the rain. Birdie should have been many things. She should have been cold. She should have been worried. She should have been _terrified_. But there was something there, something molten that lounged lazily in the space between them, that sent heat sneaking up her arms, her legs, down her back…

"That I did." Eric murmured finally. "Am I to assume you have an answer for me?"

Birdie blinked, rain dropping from her eyelashes. "Please." She forced the word out breathlessly. "_Please_."

She watched, waited, but those eyes betrayed nothing. Until, after a moment, he reached for her. Slowly, he ran his hand just underneath her fingertips. A whisper of a touch, but a promise nonetheless. A guarantee of more. Birdie bit back a shiver. She withdrew her hand gently, causing him to still. There was no question, no surprise. Only calculation.

He wanted to know where she stood.

Eric sat still and waited for Birdie to cross the line.

"I expect you to be true to your word." Birdie whispered. She allowed her hand to relax, falling at her side so that it brushed his again. _No biting_.

Silence. All Birdie could hear was the wild rhythm of her heart, filling her ears like a drum. There was no one else. No music. _Nothing_. All she saw was him.

And then, Eric Northman stood.

Birdie had never been so close to him before. He towered over her, impossibly tall, and had to duck his head to look her in the eye. Looking up, Birdie felt his hand turn underneath hers once. And then again. His fingers clasped loosely around her own, entreating her even as he began to lead her off the platform, away from the throne.

_Fire_. _Flames_. _Ash_.

Birdie followed him without question. She felt like she was floating. Perhaps she was flying. Either way, everything was unreal. And this was probably a terrible decision. Yet, it was the only one that felt exactly right. Her judgement was impaired not because of the drink she had at dinner but because Eric was standing too close to her. And she couldn't bring herself to push him away and say that she made a mistake. She wouldn't turn around and walk out to her car.

She wouldn't be going home tonight.

Eric led her around and then behind the platform to a stairway. From there, they descended, down, down. Away from the first floor of Fangtasia, deeper into the bowels of whatever lurked underneath. It never occurred to her that he might live there. Birdie wondered at the darkness as it opened its maw and swallowed them whole, never once removing her hand from his.

His grasp was surprising. Nothing about it was possessive. But neither did it strike her as innocent. She had already made up her mind that she didn't want it to be.

As if Eric read her mind, he came to a stop outside a final door. Birdie raised an eyebrow. "No coffins?"

"We passed them on the way in." He said. His voice was nothing more than a murmur, a rumble in the back his throat, and sent sparks flying across Birdie's skin. With his free hand, he reached for Birdie's face. Slowly, he brushed a strand of damp hair away from her eyes.

Birdie felt her face flame and hoped that he couldn't see. Reality crept in again, demanding to know why she was still there. It screamed at her, echoing in the quiet. For a moment, panic threatened to set in. And then he looked at her again.

The panic morphed into something very different.

Eric reached behind her, close enough that she could inhale the scent of his skin and opened the door. Half-drunk by his proximity, Birdie drifted inside, pulling him with her as she went. With a flick of his wrist, Eric illuminated the space with light. The room was the size of a studio apartment, complete with a kitchenette and what looked to be a bathroom. Fit for a human. Designed with them in mind. Every other piece of furniture was draped each with their own sheet. No one had stepped inside this place in a long time.

"I'm not the first." Birdie commented, still looking around. There was no surprise in her voice, for she felt none. It was strange, to be immune to the sting of what could potentially be hurtful if allowed. Birdie merely observed. This was not a relationship. There would be no emotional attachment. But there was a promise to be fulfilled.

Eric Northman had promised to help her forget.

"No." He said, lingering behind her. She could feel his breath on her skin.

Birdie took a deep breath as quietly as possible and released his hand. She walked forward without looking back. If she had, Birdie knew they would never make it past the threshold. Methodically, Birdie removed the dusty sheets from each piece of furniture. First the sofa, then the dining table. The chairs. And then the bed.

The stagnant smell of the studio had just begun to slip away just as Birdie felt Eric's arms slip around her waist. Sighing, she leaned into his body.

Birdie had never known anything like it. His skin was firm – marble and steel. Hers was supple, breakable. It was a reminder that she was only human. And this was dangerous and stupid. _He _was dangerous, and _she _was stupid. But even if Birdie had been devoured on the spot, there was nothing in her head to remind her to care.

It was an exhilarating thing, to be so near to death. To dance with it.

Her friends would be furious. Her aunt would have been appalled. Their displeasure was the fuel to her fire, burning brighter and brighter as Eric brushed his hands down her body – unbuttoning the front of her dress as he went. His fingers were steady. Birdie's were not. They trembled along with her breath as she turned, still cradled within his arms, and began to remove his shirt. It was difficult to think, difficult to breathe, especially with Eric watching her as he did.

This was only a tryst, she reminded herself. They didn't know anything about each other. None of it mattered. And even so, she could see Eric taking note of how she responded to him. The strings of a cello at the mercy of their master. It didn't occur to her to be embarrassed. Perhaps later, when the air was not crackling between them and her blood no longer sang at his touch. Then she might blush at her audacity. Maybe not even then.

As Eric freed her from her dress, Birdie felt a weight lift from her shoulders. It was a breath of fresh air. A moment of clarity. She stepped away from it, reaching askingly for his face. He stilled. Waited.

Deliberately, Birdie traced the curve of it, the outline of his mouth, of his eyes. Learning him, even as she swore to herself that this would never happen again.

Tara was right.

She had always been a terrible liar.

Eric closed his eyes as she ran her fingers through the fine silk of his hair. A small sound escaped her mouth, her suspicions confirmed. There was not one part of him that didn't intoxicate her. At this, his eyes opened. In them, a hunger so intense that Birdie once again found it impossible to breathe. She clenched her hands into fists against his shoulders.

A tryst. An affair. _Nothing_.

It could never be more than this. Birdie would never ask for more, told herself that she would never want it. It would only ever be this. Hidden away, stealing moments from days in which the people they knew were so busy that they never noticed either of them missing.

_Forget_.

It was working already, the potency of his promise working its way through her as he brushed his knuckles along her spine. Birdie looked up at Eric from underneath her lashes, hesitating for the first time since she had decided to go to him. It was not true hesitation. Only a brief flash of the shyness that had evaded her, pushed aside by adrenaline. She knew what she wanted. And as she brought her lips to his, she claimed it for her own.

The flame ignited.

His touch was neither objective nor calculating, as she expected. He did not play her just to hear her sing but was just as much a participant as she. Neither held back or gave in to reason. This was not nothing. It was something.

An accident, a gift, a mistake, an answered prayer.

After, when they'd had their way with each other several times over, Birdie lay in the bed staring at the canopy. It was just after dawn. Eric had excused himself quietly to slumber in his coffin, for though they had shared more than most strangers, it seemed that he did not trust her enough to sleep in the open space beside her.

Birdie wondered if it was habit. _Stay_, he'd said by way of an offer. _Sleep_, _if you wish_.

Sleep never came.

She traced the edges of her cheeks, her lips, and hid her face when it turned crimson from the blush that worked its way down her neck and up to her ears. What had she done?

"I'm ruined." She whispered to no one. "Utterly ruined."

Not in a way that made her feel dirty or used. Not in a way that made her feel spent and miserable because of the night's events. But in a way that Birdie knew there was no way back from. Shipwrecked on an island with no way off and no reason to care. The prisoner of the most exquisite and terrible dream, fearful that she might wake. She was addicted to the sensation of losing herself within someone else. It didn't matter if it meant nothing, if all it would ever be was sex. Eric had fulfilled his promise and made her forget everything for a few blissful hours. And she was addicted to the freedom of it.

Birdie forced her eyes closed and relaxed. As she fell finally into the embrace of sleep, the dazed smile that she could not seem to will away slipped from her face. And for the first time since coming back to Bon Temps, Birdie dreamed and dreamed in the pale light of the morning sun.

That was the first night she spent with Eric Northman.


	7. 06 Live in the Dark

_**Hi everyone! I know it has been a little bit since I posted. I'm inconsistent, but I'm really trying. So, I appreciate your patience! **_

_**This chapter will probably be a little sensitive for some people. I ran it by two of my friends and, since the danger is only brief, they gave me the go ahead to post. However, I have split the chapter in two parts. I just wanted to put up a brief warning so you could be a little cautious in the second half of this chapter. **_

_**(The chapter title comes from "Live in the Dark" by **_**Jeff Beck. _I truly hope to hear from some of you in the reviews! Don't be surprised if I update a time or two more this week.) _**

**\- lightinside **

* * *

**06.****| Live in the Dark **

Two weeks. Birdie had seen Eric for seven out of fourteen days that had passed since the first night she spent at Fangtasia. Every other day, if they could – there were times when Birdie's friends paid a little too much attention for comfort. She couldn't escape to Shreveport, no matter how much she thought of it.

Today was one of those days. It was nearing sundown and Birdie found herself stuck at Sookie's kitchen table, being fussed over. As Birdie absently circled her finger around the rim of her water glass, too far gone to hear her friend clucking, a sandwich was plopped in front of her.

Birdie started, halting her ninth rotation around the glass. "What's that?"

"Food." Sookie rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. "Honestly, Birdie, what is with you lately? You aren't present. When Tara told you she quit her job yesterday you said, 'sounds nice.'"

"Just tired, I guess." Birdie murmured. It wasn't a lie. She was very tired, just not for the reasons Sookie would assume.

"Do you need one of us to stay with you?" Sookie asked. Birdie watched her slice a tomato with no small amount of dread. "It can't be easy staying in that house alone."

"Why not?" Birdie asked. It was an effort to keep a defensive edge out of her voice. "You stay here alone. And you seem to get on just fine." She took a bite of her sandwich as Sookie turned around, knife in hand. A full mouth meant more time to come up with something to say if Sookie asked any pointed questions.

"I'm just sayin'." She sighed, looking Birdie over in such a way that Birdie suddenly couldn't remember if she'd washed her face that morning. Did she look that bad? She frowned and moodily took another bite of her sandwich.

"Well stop it." Birdie said. "I'm alright."

"And when you're here, you eat like a _wolf_." Sookie shook her head and kept slicing tomatoes. "I'm worried about you. You're buyin' enough food, right?"

"For the love of all that is holy, Sookie Stackhouse, you don't have to mother me." Birdie half growled. "I'm alive and healthy and nowhere near starved. I just don't cook the way you do – Mama never taught me a thing. And you better watch that knife before you lose your thumb."

Sookie put the knife down with exaggerated grace, just to grate on Birdie's last nerve. It was working. For the first time in her life, Birdie was truly irritated. Always in a fuss about nothing, never content. She suspected it was because she finally knew what true contentment was. And some part of her would never rest as long as it remained out of her reach.

Birdie sipped her water again, longer than necessary. As if I might quell the itch rising in her blood. She caught Sookie staring as she put down her glass and glared. "And before you ask me if I'm drinkin' enough water, you can kindly _shove it_."

Her friend laughed and went back to her work, but Sookie was far from being out of questions to ask. There was a long silence – the deep breath before the plunge. "Bird?"

Birdie braced herself. She got the feeling that she was about to have to lie _very _well. She resumed her dance along the rim of her glass. "Mmm."

"Are you…" Though Sookie wasn't looking directly at her, Birdie could have sworn that she started sweating. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there was that thing with Tara. You're saying strange things. And you're hungry… _all the time_." Sookie peeked over her shoulder, smiling conspiratorially. _Oh, no_. "Is there a guy?"

Birdie nearly knocked her glass right over into the floor. "_No_!" She cried, a little too loudly. "Of course not. Not after the debacle with – you know. Anyway. You'd be the first to know." _Carry me straight to hell_, she thought. She could just imagine the flames eating away at her. It was terrible to deceive Sookie, especially when she was so sincere about _everything_.

"Well, _good_." Sookie said, never losing her smile. She looked suspiciously like she knew something that Birdie didn't. And that made Birdie very nervous.

"Wait." Birdie said, trying not to stammer. "What do you mean? Why is that good?"

"It's very good, because I have someone very interested in going out for a night on the town with you." Sookie squealed and bounced away from the counter to rip a number off the fridge.

Birdie couldn't seem to breathe. "No, no. That's okay. I'm not really – I shouldn't – I don't really do blind dates."

"It wouldn't be a blind date, silly." Sookie said, handing her friend the number. "You know him."

Birdie couldn't hide the surprise that flickered across her face before she glanced down at the number. _Austin Caudill_. Oh, _hell_. "Sookie, I haven't seen Austin since high school."

"I know." Sookie said, waving her hand in dismissal. "Which is why I told him you would love to catch up."

Birdie was going to scream. This couldn't have been real. Sookie wasn't serious. She looked up from the ten-digit number to her friend. Sookie was _beaming_. She was absolutely serious and one-hundred and fifty percent excited about it.

Birdie's mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. "Um… _great_!" She forced the word from her mouth. "Fantastic. But, you know, I sort of like things to happen naturally? If it's meant to be, it will be – that shit."

"Well, you will _naturally_ be seeing him tonight at dinner." Sookie said, avoiding Birdie's eye.

"You didn't."

Sookie shrugged. "If I did?"

"I would have to kill you?" Birdie asked, and it didn't sound like a joke. She didn't know if she meant it to. "You didn't. Right?"

This time, Sookie had the decency to look apologetic. She turned to face Birdie, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. Something within Birdie snapped and she stood up from the table, abandoning the rest of her food. Her appetite had gone in an instant. "I did. Alright, you look upset. Are you upset?"

"You know I just – the thing with – Portland, remember? I _moved here _to get away from someone? Does any of that ring a bell with you?" Birdie demanded, trying not to lunge for Sookie. For the first time ever, she could imagine throttling the little blonde. There were a lot of firsts happening as of late. Maybe hitting Sookie over the head with a thick magazine would relieve some of the pressure building in Birdie's head.

_Also, I might be consciously not involved with someone you hate? There's that, too._

"Ringing." Sookie said, still chewing on her lip. "I just thought it would be good for you. You don't have to like him or even be serious about it. It's _good_ to date around – to mess around, even. You should try it, it might loosen you up some."

Birdie's mouth opened and closed. She was doing exactly that. Messing around. Sookie just didn't know it. She stood there, gaping like an idiot, trying to think of something to say that didn't sound like an outright lie. The only thing she could do was agree to dinner. If she started acting too squirrely about the whole thing, Sookie would know something was up. "Do I need loosening?" She asked finally, forcing herself not to spit the words through her teeth.

"Don't we all?" Sookie asked. "It isn't that I think you need help getting a date, Bird. I just think that if you don't get back out there now, you'll keep puttin' it off." She narrowed her eyes, taking in Birdie's murderous expression. "And you said there wasn't a guy."

"No guy." Birdie repeated. "And it was thoughtful, but honestly I think I'll pass." She looked back at the number. "Austin Caudill?"

"He's really a nice guy, Birdie." Sookie promised. "He's on the police force now. A real hot-shot."

"In my experience, hot-shots are the ones to avoid." Birdie mumbled.

"One dinner. If you don't have a good time, I'll never try to set you up again." Sookie smiled, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work exactly the way she wanted. "Scout's honor."

"You were never a Girl Scout." Birdie reminded her.

"_Birdie_."

"Alright, fine. One dinner." She stabbed a finger toward Sookie. "And you'll _never _set me up again. Not ever."

Sookie squealed, throwing her arms around Birdie's shoulders. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." When she pulled away, Birdie made a show of smiling even though she didn't much feel like it. "I solemnly swear I will henceforth stay out of your business."

"Thank God for that." Birdie said, shaking her head.

"You might like him." Sookie sang, returning to her work at the counter. Birdie watched as she began to roll out a large section of dough, as though she were going to make a pie. Of course she would, if someone new was coming to dinner.

"Don't bet on it." Birdie sang back and sauntered over to the sink. Very soon, she was elbow deep in suds and silverware. She had hoped that helping Sookie with her dishes would make her forget about going to Shreveport.

It didn't.

* * *

Sookie went out of her way to create a spread that rivaled a banquet. There was salad, pecan pie, potatoes, green beans and a duck that could have fed five people easily. But when prompted, Sookie insisted that dinner would only consist of the two of them and Austin. She'd invited Jason but had yet to hear back with a solid answer.

"That's why all the extra food." She said as she set the table with Birdie. "You know how he eats."

Birdie nodded. "I remember." She looked at the dining table, lined with dish after dish. It was completely insane that Sookie had done all of this – had been in the process even before she warned Birdie about her little arrangement. Birdie felt guilty for even considering telling her no.

Sookie left her to finish the table arrangements so that she could call Jason one last time. In the meantime, Birdie checked herself over. It wasn't that she didn't look nice. But who thought they looked perfect before a date, anyway? No one. Not ever.

She fussed over her hair and straightened her dress, and then became frustrated that she even cared at all how she looked. Dinner hadn't been her idea. But it was Sookie's arrangement – Sookie's house. How Birdie behaved toward Austin would reflect on Sookie. And she already had enough working against her. Being the town freak was a full-time occupation.

Birdie took a deep breath and began milling around the living room. She could hear Sookie on the phone with Jason. It didn't sound like it was going too well.

"You've barely seen Birdie since she's been home." Sookie was clearly attempting to keep her voice down, but the kitchen was just off the living room. It was nearly impossible to keep someone from hearing every detail of a conversation had over the phone. "I know you're upset about – I _know_, Jason. It's been hard on everyone. Just… we're here, you know? I'm here."

Birdie stopped trying not to listen and opted to turn on the TV for maximum conversation drowning. She flipped from channel to channel, skipping _Hallmark _and _TNT_ before landing momentarily on the news. Birdie never watched the news. It was almost always horrible – there was no point in looking to see what part of the world was falling to pieces next.

The headline caught her eye. And it seemed that it was her part of the world that was on the chopping block – _TRU-BLOOD FACTORIES SHUT DOWN, HUMANS FIGHT BACK_.

Birdie dropped the remote. Her hands flew to her mouth as she stared, hardly seeing or hearing what was said. But Sookie did. A few hurried words later, she flew from the kitchen and landed right in front of the television, gripping Birdie's arm so hard that it hurt.

"No." Sookie murmured. "That isn't possible. That's the governor."

The governor, Truman Burrell, stood at the podium proudly. Birdie didn't know what to think of him – a small, balding man in his fifties who seemed as though he would be fodder for any determined vampire. He was publicly against them, Birdie had seen him on television before, but it couldn't be possible that he could have spread his influence so far. It couldn't be. "Humans will fight back. As of now, vampires have no rights in the state of Louisiana. Following a conference tomorrow, it is likely that vampires will have no rights in the _South_."

Sookie had to sit down. Birdie felt the absence of her iron grip but never turned around to see if Sookie was ill or if she'd needed to take a moment to breathe. "They can't do this." Birdie said, more to convince herself than ask. "They can't."

"They are." Sookie said. "_No rights_. I have to – I don't know, I have to get to Bill. I have to warn Bill." This caught Birdie's attention. She turned from the TV in time to see Sookie get up from the coffee table and start getting her things together.

"No way. You can't go out there." Birdie insisted, catching her arm. "There's no telling what it's like. Vampires have no rights. There are going to be riots in the streets – mobs. It'll be open season."

"Which is why I have to go get him." Sookie yanked her arm back and picked up her cell phone. "He's one of the first one's they'll go for. Bill is more in the public eye in Bon Temps than you realize. People like Maxine Fortenberry? They'll be exactly the type to grab their guns, buy some silver bullets, and find a vampire to use them on."

Birdie felt sick to her stomach. "Just… be careful." She looked toward the door. "I'm going to go home."

Sookie's eyes widened. "What about Austin?"

Birdie swore. "What time did he say he was coming?"

"Eight-thirty." Sookie checked her watch. "It's eight-fifteen now."

"Go." Birdie said. "I'll stay and wait for him. Get a head start on all the madness – and stay in touch."

Sookie took off without another word. She never said that she would come back. Birdie could only hope everything went without incident. Birdie tried to keep it together. The one person she worried for most was the one she couldn't mention. It wasn't as if she could go to him. Could she? What would that mean?

Nothing. He was nothing. There was no _they_. Eric could take care of himself – he had Pam. They would be fine. She looked back toward the television just as the governor raised his arms and the crowd around him erupted into cheers and applause.

She was running to the bathroom to be sick just as the doorbell rang. Birdie lost the contents of her lunch from earlier in the day before she gathered herself and went to answer it.

Austin Caudill was just as she remembered him. Muscled and tall, just like Sookie's brother. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a goofy grin that didn't at all match the hot-shot policeman Sookie described to her.

Birdie smiled. "Hi, Austin."

He dipped his head. "Birdie."

"So, change of plans." She said abruptly, blinking at her own audacity. "Sookie had to go. And I need… a ride."

"Is everything okay?" He asked, furrowing his brow. Ever the gentleman. Never once acting put out by the new turn of events. Birdie could have kissed him for being so gracious.

"Fine, fine." She lied. Another smile. "I just need to, um, meet someone in Shreveport. I forgot. You know, before the – this – dinner. Before dinner." Birdie turned and grabbed her bag and phone, wincing at her own awkwardness. "Is that okay? I could call a cab, but that would take a long time and I'm – it's late."

Austin narrowed his eyes, even as he fished his keys from inside his pocket. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Mmhmm." Birdie said chipperly. "Absolutely. We can catch up on the way, maybe? Unless this is a total bummer and you would rather never speak to me again since I've denied you dinner."

He laughed, a rich, warm sound that made her think he hadn't a care in the world. "While you _have _denied me dinner, you are providing me with your undivided attention. I think that makes up for it." He gestured toward the car. "After you."

"Really?"

"I would never deny a lady a ride." Austin said. "And it isn't too safe out tonight. I would feel better escorting you."

_It isn't too safe out tonight_.

Birdie's heart sank. It was already getting bad, then. She got ahold of herself and nodded, heading for Austin's police cruiser that sat parked in front of the house. Before Austin could open the door for her, Birdie had hurled herself into the front passenger seat and was buckled as he slid in the drivers' seat.

Without a word he cranked the car and pulled away from Sookie's house. Birdie never looked back.

* * *

It was worse than Birdie thought it might have been. So much worse. She could barely hear Austin talking for all the noise – the yelling, the gunfire, the fireworks. He sat easily, chatted as if there was nothing for Birdie to worry about. But she could see that wasn't the case. Austin's eyes were aware, always shifting around to assess the situation around them. And his hands were tight around the steering wheel, as if he were channeling all his anxiety into it.

Birdie chose to ball her hands into fists and shove them in her lap. There was no point in telling him to drive faster – how could he? Lines and lines of people crowded the streets leading into Shreveport. Most were drinking. And most had guns.

This had been a very bad idea.

Around the time a pathway cleared for Austin to ease the car through, a bright light caught Birdie's eye to the left of them. She looked in time to see a man, no older than twenty, throw what looked to be a Molotov cocktail into the shop-front of a Vampire Rights office. Birdie screamed just as the window exploded, folding in on herself to become smaller as the remnants of wood and glass hit the cruiser. Austin reached out a hand for her, steadying her, and stepped on the gas.

"Damn, Birdie." He murmured when they cleared most of the crowds. "I'm not sure I should have brought you all the way out here."

"We're almost there." She breathed shakily. "I didn't expect it would be this bad. Not so soon."

"When the world goes to hell, it doesn't much take its time." He said, removing his hand from her back as she sat up. "Are you alright?"

"Startled."

"Yeah." He said grimly. "I can't say that I'm not." He looked toward Birdie as they once again hit a stretch of open road. "Where is that place you're goin' again?"

"Down the road a way." Birdie replied, avoiding his question. "Not far now."

Austin didn't say anything to that, just kept driving. But Birdie could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye. He was curious about something – it was eating away at him.

She sighed. "Ask me."

He cleared his throat. "What?"

"You've been starin' at me for the past five minutes, Austin. I think I can handle whatever it is that's eatin' you up so bad."

"Well…"

"Ask me." Birdie repeated.

"You're going to see a vampire."

"That doesn't sound like a question."

"Are you?"

Birdie hesitated. "Yeah." She said finally. "I am. Does that bother you?"

"Only thing that would have bothered me is if you'd have tried comin' out here alone in all this." Austin said earnestly. "So, no. I'm not bothered a bit."

"That's generous of you. All things considered."

He raised an eyebrow. "What things?"

"The uniform, hot-shot." Birdie laughed. "Mr. Policeman come to save the day."

Austin snorted. "You know better than that, Birdie. I'm still the same guy I was in high school. I don't much care for politics. Just for what's right." He looked in the rearview, at the smoke that was staining the sky as it bled orange from the fire. "And this ain't it."

Birdie nodded, thinking. And she was so lost in her own mind that she hardly noticed when the car slowed down again. She looked up from her lap and gasped. "Oh, no."

They were two minutes down the road from Fangtasia. And between them and the nightclub, there was a mob, armed to the teeth. Birdie could see fire and the beams of flashlights, each playing off of lines and lines of silver that were draped over the would-be attackers like silk. She hadn't gotten ahead of anything, just walked right into the middle of it all.

Birdie steeled herself, clenched her jaw, and unbuckled her seatbelt. Austin started next to her, hand shooting out to grab her arm. "Oh, no. No way." He said. "No way are you goin' out in that."

"If you want to stop me, you're going to have to handcuff me to this cruiser." Birdie said calmly, looking him right in the eye. "I don't think you would do that. Not after we came all this way."

"Birdie, this is crazy. Bringing you here was one thing. I can't let you go into that." He sounded as though he were on the edge of panic. So was she, but she refused to let it surface. Birdie wouldn't be controlled by it or allow herself to be distracted.

The first rule of safety was awareness.

"Let go of my arm." Birdie coaxed, keeping her voice steady. Getting upset over him trying to keep her in the car was just as likely to cement the fact that Austin wouldn't let her go. "It'll be okay. I'll be fine."

"What if that place is already up in flames?"

Birdie looked toward the nightclub, insides roiling. She was nearly sick with relief to see that there were no flames. Not yet. "It isn't."

"What if it goes up with you in it?"

"There's a basement. Concrete." Birdie told him, though she wasn't sure she should have. "I promise, I've thought this through. You can let me go." _That_ was the lie, but he would never know it.

Austin looked between her and the mob, still unconvinced. "Damn it. You owe me dinner, Birdie. Nothing can happen to you while you owe me dinner."

It was clear he was kidding, and Birdie laughed even though he didn't. "I do owe you." She leaned over slowly and kissed his cheek, surprising him. And so, Birdie took her opportunity. She yanked her arm out of Austin's grip and threw herself out of the cruiser, landing on her feet. She didn't bother closing the door.

"BIRDIE!"

Before he could try to follow, Birdie hurled herself into the middle of the mob and began to make her way forward. Within minutes, she was completely out of Austin's reach. There was no way to find her, not this far in. And before Birdie could let that thought send her spiraling, she shoved it from her head and kept moving forward.

One foot in front of the other.

Pushing and shoving, breathing in and out, never meeting the eye of anyone around her. Head down, eyes forward, _don't stop_. She repeated that in her head over and over, drowning out her anxiety. She remembered what Penny told her. No matter where she was, Birdie should act like she belonged. There was no room to show an ounce of weakness, not in this environment.

Not when she was so close to the front door. She could see the velvet rope just beyond the front of the mob. It had been knocked over and cut, the building was spray-painted with a message in red.

GOD HATES FANGS.

Birdie kept pushing forward. She could barely hear herself think through all the noise. Her fingers had just brushed the front door when a low whistle sounded from behind her. All the blood rushed from Birdie's face.

"Boys." The man laughed, taking a swig from his flask. "I think we've got ourselves a fang-banger."

Two others, presumably the idiot's cohorts, looked Birdie over. And suddenly being without Austin didn't seem like such a good idea. "Excuse me?" Birdie asked, having to raise her voice. It kept the tremor out of it. But she couldn't find the time to be grateful.

"I think we might." One of the two said, looking back toward the drunk. "Should we find out?"

"I think you're mistaken." Birdie managed. "God hates fangs." She repeated the phrase that stained the wall outside like fresh blood, even as she tasted bile at the words. "I'm no sinner."

The drunk laughed, coming close enough that Birdie could smell his stale breath. She turned away from it instinctively. He pinched her chin between his fingers, stronger than he looked. "I can make you one."

Arms were around Birdie's waist before she could move or make a sound. And suddenly she found herself in the alleyway next to the club, at the mercy of these three men who wanted to well and truly eat her alive, just as Penny had warned her. Birdie began sucking in air to scream just as one of them tore at her dress, but no sooner had one laid a hand on her bare leg to pull her down into the dirt than the side-door opened.

Birdie couldn't contain her shock. There stood Ginger, one of the human waitresses, with a shotgun that was nearly bigger than she was. Ginger was shaking, but not one of Birdie's attackers noticed.

"Leave her the fuck alone." Ginger said, forcing the words out as if they'd been fed to her. "Take your hands off her, and I won't have to blow you to hell."

"This ain't your business, little girl."

Ginger cocked the gun and swung it around so that it pointed right at his head – the leader. "Call me that again." She took a step outside, distracting everyone just long enough that no one but Birdie saw the blur leave Fangtasia. And then, she was free. The hands holding her were limp, as were the bodies connected to them.

Birdie thought she would faint, couldn't bring herself to move, but was swept into arms of marble and steel before she was spirited inside. Ginger stumbled in behind them, making a muffled sound that Birdie realized was screaming. And she also realized why it was muffled – Pam had dragged her back inside with a hand over her mouth.

Birdie was half-dazed. Unsure what to say as she was carried toward the basement stairs. "Clean that up, Pam." Eric's voice rumbled, vibrating against Birdie's ear as she swung in his arms. He carried her as easily as one would carry a child.

"With pleasure." Pam said flatly, snatching the gun from Ginger's hand.

Ginger was still screaming.

Eric carried her straight into the room nestled deep within the basement, far away from Pam and the noise of Ginger's high-pitched screaming. Birdie wondered to herself if Ginger would last very long working at Fangtasia. She didn't exactly seem like the type that was built to have daily dealings with vampires. And she was shrill. Very shrill.

Once the door was shut behind them, Birdie could no longer hear the mob outside. She could only hear her breathing, ragged as it was from all the excitement. "Explain to me what it is that you are doing here." Eric demanded, a dark edge to his voice.

He put her down, turning his back on her only for a moment before he produced a red shirt. _Fangtasia_, it read. _Life begins at night_. Without asking, he swiftly removed Birdie's dress and, before she could blink, she was wearing the shirt. It was long enough that it covered her – there was nothing to bring her embarrassment.

It was only as he threw her dress to the side that she saw it had blood on the neckline. Birdie touched the back of her head and winced.

He sounded upset. Almost angry. Birdie wondered at that for as long as she dared before she forced her mouth to start working. "I didn't know it would be this bad. I thought I could get here in front of the aftermath. The governor made an announcement – they aren't making – "

"I know that, Birdie." Eric almost hissed her name. "What I want to know is why you are _here_."

Birdie gaped at him, staring stupidly. He'd said her name. Her first name – not 'Miss. Chapman'. And what did he mean? Of course she had come to warn them – it was the decent thing to do. It was the right thing. The dangerous thing. "I couldn't stay in Bon Temps not knowing – I just – I didn't come alone. I'm not here for – I – I'm –" Birdie squeezed her eyes shut. She forced herself to take a deep breath. "I wanted to make sure everyone was alright."

Eric looked downright murderous. She was sure it wasn't entirely because of her. It couldn't be because of her. "You should not have come." He pointed back toward the apartment door. "You could have been killed."

Birdie shook her head. "It hardly matters now. I made it."

"Did you?" Eric ground out through clenched teeth. "Who do you think sent _Ginger _to fetch you? Ginger – that stupid thing who can barely hold a tray and I was forced to send her out with a gun."

"Who are you to lecture me?" Birdie demanded, taking a step toward him. She was already looking up at him, was aware that there was hardly any dignity in having to talk up to someone. But she was upset now. She was angry. And she found that it didn't matter much to her. "You didn't have to send Ginger. You didn't have to do anything. You didn't have to _kill _them."

Eric grabbed her forearms, ducking his head as he moved closer to her. "Didn't I?"

Birdie was staring again, having forgotten how to speak. It seemed, after a long moment in which neither breathed, that he realized how tight he held her and let go.

"I…" Birdie tried to swallow her fear, but it was no use. She was trembling all over. Whether from the shock of the scene outside or from the surprise of Eric's show of temper, there was no way of knowing. "How will you get out of here? How will you _eat_?"

Eric's eyes flashed. He leaned stoically against the wall across from Birdie, watching her intently. She couldn't read his face, no matter how hard she tried. "We will make due."

Birdie fell silent, watching Eric as he watched her. She made no move to cross the room to him. Nor did he to reach her. That wasn't what this was, she reminded herself. By all rights, she shouldn't even have been there. It was a thoughtless thing to do. An _emotional_ thing to do.

"You were right." Birdie never broke his gaze. "I shouldn't have come here." She paused, thinking carefully about her next words even as her heart fluttered in her chest. Reckless words, but true all the same. "I was afraid for you."

Something passed over Eric's face, much as it had the night he first laid eyes on her. And Birdie still couldn't put a name to it. She stopped trying and kept speaking, tried to get everything out before he could stop her.

"Before you ridicule me, or call me ridiculous, I just want you to know that I remember what this is. What we are. Believe me, I am not fooling myself into believing differently. But also, I – I just need to know that it's okay for me to feel that. To be afraid for you, just this once. Under these circumstances. I won't act – be irrational after this."

Eric paused. Some of the rage melted from his eyes, leaving only a small measure of relief. "Only if you allow me the same."

He had been afraid for her. _He had been afraid for her_. Birdie bit her tongue and forced herself to nod. "Of course."

"It seems that even I am not immune to human tendencies at times." Eric murmured. He looked her up and down, assessing. "Are you harmed?"

"Scraped." Birdie answered him honestly. "Nothing more than that."

Eric seemed doubtful but took her at her word. Something crashed upstairs, causing both of them to look toward the door. "Stay here." He ordered her.

"You're going back out there?" The words were out of her mouth before Birdie could stop them. She barely was able to keep her arms at her sides to keep from reaching for him.

"I will retrieve Pam and Ginger. If the humans manage to compromise the nightclub, it will be better if they are here, out of immediate danger."

"My friend –" Birdie started but stopped herself before she could say Austin's name.

"If your friend was smart, they would have turned around and headed for Bon Temps."

Birdie didn't say so, but she wasn't sure that Austin would have just turned around and left her. Especially not after she practically leapt from his cruiser and into the crowds that spanned two blocks around Fangtasia. He probably thought she'd been trampled to death. Which, Birdie admitted, had been a very real possibility. One that she had chosen not to consider beforehand.

Birdie looked back at Eric one more time. "Thank you." She said. "For… thank you."

"Do not ever put yourself in that position again."

Birdie nodded, at a loss for words.

Without another word, Eric turned on his heel and strode from the room. And Birdie was left to listen to the world outside go up in flames.


End file.
